


if you promise to stay conscious (i will try and do the same)

by egregiousocialite



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Brief glimpses of beauty, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Friendship, Gen, I promise, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Poor Life Choices, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prose Poem, Teen Angst, You don't have to watch euphoria for this to make sense, lovers to strangers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egregiousocialite/pseuds/egregiousocialite
Summary: AU: Nate Jacobs is recovering, likes to make lists, and is a little too fascinated by human behaviour.Rue Bennett likes to count, and has relapsed, again. Her mom caught her, again. And frankly? She’s getting sick of everyone's shit. They both have a lot more in common than they think.a story about: heavy drinking, ticks, trying to be the perfect person for everyone, and being okay. also really, really good couscous.
Relationships: Nate Jacobs/Maddy Perez, Rue Bennett/Jules Vaughn, Rue Bennett/Nate Jacobs
Comments: 33
Kudos: 107





	1. half-empty god

_December_

Rue Bennett couldn’t remember a day where she _hadn’t_ felt like this. It was as though somebody had hosed her down till her clothes grew soggy, and then proceeded to nail each fabric to her bed. She wondered if somebody had placed hot glue underneath her neck while she slept. Maybe that’s why it was difficult to move. She craned her head up and gazed at her window. It had begun to rain.

She closed her eyes and imagined there was nothing and no one else in this world except her, the silent air and the beautiful mechanical humming of nature. Surely – with moments like these – she thought; life is worth living for.

Until her mother barged in.

“Are you seriously still not dressed? Get up.” She snapped.

“Mom, I just need an extra–”

“Extra five minutes?” Her eyes narrowed. “I gave you ten. Get dressed.”

With that, she slammed the door.

She couldn’t get mad at her even if she tried. When she thought about the shit she put her through, Rue was glad her mother even felt a crumb of emotion towards her. She gathered her clothes; turned towards her window and sighed.

***

Gia rode in the backseat, studying the droplets outside her window.

The car held a stiff, familiar silence.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you how disappointed we are in you.” Her mother said, staring ahead.

Maybe she did need her to, Rue thought. Maybe this was going to be the final ‘talk’ they had that would finally push her to flush those pills, watch the water turn a pale hue and then twist back into its regular invisible self. Maybe she would finally redeem herself. Then again, she thought the same thing with their last talk. And the one before that.

“I– I really thought you were getting better, baby.” She continued, her voice growing softer with each word till she was barely audible. In the back, Rue could hear Gia sniffling quietly. And she realised that it was moments like this, watching her family crumble before her eyes that really, really fucking broke her.

And what could Rue respond to that? _I’m sorry? I’m sorry that I’m doing this to you all? I’m sorry that I’m trying so, so fucking hard, to keep living in this miserable, shitty world? I’m sorry that I’m not the daughter you deserve, but the one you feared of having?_

She didn’t know which one to say. Instead, they all sat silently; hoping the cold rain would scrub her clean and spit her out.

***

Just Beat It! Meets every Friday in a harsh-lighting, large and depressing empty workshop at the edge of town. Rue couldn’t tell what was worse, the fact that this entire situation reeked of shameful secrecy or the cheesy Micheal Jackson reference. Either way, Rue couldn’t deny herself the delicious irony of a support group for teenage drug addicts being named after an alleged pedophile that died of an overdose. Life gives you little pleasures like that.

“Why hello! You’re very early! Is that a new face I see?” A mousy man limped towards them. “Good afternoon, I’m Charles.” He shook their hands, flashing his spotted teeth.

Charles Hindberg. He was a former addict, had a firm handshake, and sometimes stared at teenage girls’ legs for too long. Other than that, he was an okay dude. Charles couldn’t afford to go to college so he did what any average, God-fearing, American man did when his government failed him; he enlisted for the Army. Got deployed for a while in Afghanistan, sang with kids, learnt how to make _khemil_ and pronounced it in the way most Americans did with foreign languages –he butchered it– he learnt Islamic customs, and made some military buddies. And for a while, things were great. Until they weren’t.

PTSD hit Hindberg in every way possible and granted him no mercy when he reached America. He tried drinking, and when that didn't work he moved onto pills. But that didn’t quite stop the guilt. Eventually, moving up the ladder he found his Goldilocks; Heroin. It was the only thing that stopped the overwhelming fear building. The burrowing. The nesting. The screaming.

He mentioned once that the worst part of getting back home wasn’t the constant nightmares. It wasn’t the sounds of grenades going off in his head –though that did play a part– it was the fact that everyone expected him to go back to normal. As though those years didn’t take a toll on his psyche. Because it was painful for others to acknowledge that you’re not the same. But it was even worse to try to pretend to be; not because you want to, but because it was easier. And Rue knew that feeling better than she knew anyone else.

Charles gave them a somber tour and asked if they had any questions, never once removing that warm crooked smile from his face.

“I have a good feeling about this place.” Her mother beamed.

“From what you’ve told me Miss Bennett, your daughter might do better around peers her age, Don’t you think?” He replied.

“Oh absolutely, what do you think?” Her mother turned towards her sister, Gia.

“Honestly? Yeah. I got a lot of weird depressing vibes from that last group.” Gia responded.

Rue hated moments like this. When they all treated her as though she was invisible, architecting her life because she had proved to be too negligent to do so on her own. For a moment, she had the impulse to pack her bags, whisper every secret that held this shitty building together and never see her family again. Never be a disappointment again, because there was no one you can hurt if you’re all alone.

But then Rue looked at her mother. And her sister, too. Looked at their thin faces, their weary smiles, and bony shoulders and remembered that they were trying. Just like her. And that’s the most that anyone can ask for.

And so she kissed her mother’s cheek. And her sister, too. Promised to call them when it’s over, and have Charles wait outside with her till they arrived. Then she sat down in those hard, cold, metallic chairs and propped her elbows on the long wooden table. She then held a grin and promised to reward herself with two tabs of Gabalin when this shitshow is over.

Soon enough, kids started filing in. They all dressed normal. Rue couldn’t tell if they were equally as annoying as the kids in her High School or less so. But she wasn’t going to put in the effort to find out. Not in this economy.

Charles began with welcoming everyone, thanking them all for probably showing up against their will. 

“I see a couple of new faces. You all probably had a _craaazy_ winter break, huh?” He joked, pantomiming his desire to appear funny. Everyone –fulfilling the script– broke into nervous laughter

“But we’re not here to talk about that.” He continued, sauntering around the room. “I want to get to know _you_. Why don’t we all start by saying our names, ages, and what makes us want to stay clean? I’ll start. My name is Charles, I am 34 years old. And I want to stay clean because I care about my loved ones. Who wants to go next?”

Rue kept her gaze fixed on the brown stain in the tile in front of her. She began to pray to every God under the sun that he wouldn’t pick her.

“Rue. Why don’t you go ahead?”

Then she remembered that God is dead.

“Rue?”

God, if you’re out there. Swallow Rue Bennett whole.

“Rue.”

Fuck you, God.

“I uhm. I don’t really know h-how to– uhm.” She mumbled. Catastrophically.

“It’s alright Rue! Take a deep breath.” He exclaimed. Rue made a mental note.

  * _Personally congratulate every adult in your life for their ability to find the absolute worst things to say to you._



She got up.

“I– I’m Rue. I’m 18. And I want to stay clean because I uhm, I–” She stammered. Looking around if anybody was ready to crucify her. “I .. I want–”

Just then, the door opened.

“John! I was afraid you weren’t going to make it tonight.” Charles beamed, showing no sign of indignation to Rue being interrupted.

With that, she concluded she believed in a half-empty God, slowly melted onto her chair, and kept her eyes permanently glued to the floor. _‘Jules would’ve made this better.’_ She thought.

John settled down on a seat across from Rue, straightening his shirt with his hands in an effort to pretend he wasn't noticing the burning stares. “Yeah, I was – I was just caught up in traffic.”

“Weeeell, looks like that traffic cost you a missed introduction from our new friend, Rue Bennett! Now, Tiana?” Charles said, nodding towards a girl with thick braids. “How about you go next?”

Rue’s eyes tore away from the floor to stare at the person who’d practically saved her life. And when he looked up, they locked eyes. As the rest of the group went on, they both sat down in puzzled confusion.

Rue, wondered why his shirt was so goddamn red. She wished Jules was here so they could pantomime a conversation about this with their eyes. Seriously. That shirt bore resemblance to those red velvet cakes they sold at supermarkets. She found her stomach grumbling, causing her to create another mental note.

  * _Implore family for a celebratory “You Relapsed. But Hey, At Least You Didn’t Overdose This Time!” cake._



While Rue envisioned the satisfactory taste of a drywall-textured dyed cake, John sat there wondering why she was studying him so intently. He paused, swiping his tongue over his lips as a horrifying thought occurred to him; maybe she knew his dirty secret. That his real name wasn't John; It was Nate Jacobs.

However, both their thoughts hadn’t translated well on their faces. Causing them to sit facing each other stonily, like a cowboy showdown in the movies, and they both half expected each other to whip a gun out from their belts.

Instead, they both counted.

Rue, counted 300 white floor tiles. With an additional 60 pale pink tiles. The ceiling? Roughly around 156, it was hard to tell how many more there were from where she was sitting. 

She counted twenty teenagers, five of them barely fourteen.

She also counted sixteen overdoses, half of them intentional.

Nate, counted people's ticks.

By his second meeting, Nate had noticed that Charles had a habit of looking over his left shoulder when he was gathering his thoughts; And when he was anxious, he would pluck the skin out of his poor right thumb.

Nate also noticed the boy with blue hair beside him has stroked the ends of his brittle hair thirty-four times. 

The girl with thick braids? She tapped her feet. Excessively. Nate reached 237 until he grew tired and moved on to someone else. 

He counted 121 _'_ _Um_ _'_ s collectively. And that's without counting the _'_ _Uhm_ _'_ s. Which – by the way, were 46.

He found it interesting what people did in uncomfortable situations. It was almost as though their bodies betrayed all social conventions. He remembered how his mother had plenty of ticks. She would gently clutch her wrists when she was nervous. She also had a habit of studying the waxed, wooden table while she listened to his father berate him, knowing she had all the power in the world to stop him. 

Nate's father was stoic. He was hard leather, pressed lips and silent rage. He never could figure out what his father's unique tick was. There was a part of him that thought he never would. 

Until the day Nate almost overdosed.

They said they had to pump out his stomach, but he couldn't remember anything. When he awoke sometime later, all he recognised was the sound of tired bodies shuffling, the blinding lights, and the smell that all hospitals seem to carry. He had never been in this hospital before. Which made sense, because his family drove nearly an hour away to another hospital in a nearby town so that people wouldn't know that Star Athlete, Nathaniel Jacobs is actually addicted to drugs. 

When Nate realised his family placed their pristine self-image above the possibility of his death, he quietly made a decision; His entire family was dead to him.

When they arrived home. His father brought him to the living room, looked him the eye, and gave him an ultimatum; Support group or pack your things. 

In hindsight, it wasn't really a decision that one needed to think over. Yet, Nate grew silent. There was an innate part of him that wanted to imagine what life would be like without all the noise. Without the expectations either. _How lovely would that be_ , he thought. _I could step outside, hold the moon and fucking breathe. I wouldn't have anybody to fucking answer to. No one to fucking disappoint, no one to hurt, no one for me to be. And it could happen. Right now._

Then he saw it.

His father's left eye twitched. Nate chalked it up to being his mind playing dull tricks, so he stared a little harder to make sure.

It twitched again.

What he hadn't realised, was that his father hadn't expected him to ponder these two options. It appeared that he too, was imagining a life where his son never looked back. Where there was no one to blame for pushing him away other than himself. And what Nate found enthralling, he found terrifying.

By then, there was no denying that his left eye had a mind of its own.

So, Nate curled his lips, looked his father in his weak, beating eyes and told him he'll start looking for support groups more than two thousand miles away as soon as possible. He watched his father's eye eventually resume to its natural pace. Watched him breathe out a sigh they both hadn't known he was holding, then he wished him goodnight, put his hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye and said;

"I see you. I really, really do see you."

Because he did. Because we weren't defined by our strength and virtues –as much as we’d like to believe– but by our weakest states.

And you might say Nate had lost. But he didn't, at least not in that way. Because he had finally found a powerful glitch. This had all occurred over two months ago, but from that day onward, his father’s insecurities were like a neon sign permanently screwed onto his head. And It was in those ticks that Nate was reminded of human vulnerability; and how utterly pathetic it was to leave your weaknesses on full-display.

“Alright!” Charles clapped. “I think that’s the end of our meeting! It’s been great to have you all today. As always, I’ll see you all next Friday. Now, Beat It!”

Rue wondered if he said this after every meeting. Gathering her belongings, she texted her mother, and alerted Charles that she was stepping outside to which he responded by nodding cheerfully. She walked out, and lit a cigarette. The air was humid, still carrying remaining traces of the rain.

Shuffling immediately after her was ‘John’. He took a long pause staring at the sky, then turned his gaze towards her. He lingered expecting her to say something, but when she didn’t, he strode to his massive black car and drove off.

All of a sudden, Rue found herself overcome with the urge to crawl into a hole and cry. She was Tired. And it wasn’t the ‘tired’ you would get after a long day of productivity. It was a Tired that arrives when you’ve realised how truly heavy the weight of existence was. Her mind wandered –as always– to Jules and what she was doing. She wondered if she was thinking of her like she was thinking of her, too. 

As though right on cue. Her phone buzzed.

_FROM: Jules_ _15:47_

_hey! is it cool if i come over?_

She couldn’t contain her grin. It was as though she was deflating, and Jules had inhaled something in her that she hadn’t known she needed in order to stay upright, and alive.

_FROM: Rue_ _15:47_

_Ofcourse._

  
  


_FROM: Jules_ _15:58_

_alright :-D i’ll be there in an hour_

  
  


She slipped her phone in her pocket as her heart swelled up. For once, Rue felt good and she made no effort to conceal it. The car ride back was spent cracking jokes with her mother, and some poorly improvised karaoke with her sister. Reaching the driveway, she asked her neighbour how his day was, and even kissed his dog. When she reached home, she cleaned her room, brushed her hair, and promised to help Gia with her homework. She even took out some of the ‘emergency’ money her father had left in her bank account before he had passed away to pick up some pizza. Even ordered a medium-sized Vegetarian Feast with extra bell peppers, the way Jules liked it. Just for the two of them. And she smiled with her family, not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Because the prospect of Jules showing up and kissing all her worries away till they dissipated was exciting. Because for once, she was happy. 

And then she didn’t show up. Again.


	2. does this look like a prison to you?

_December_

Nate Jacobs liked to make lists.

He made a list of people's likes and dislikes. It was a special list. He only made it for the people he loved; or hated. And sometimes, those people coincided.

"Can you like, stop being so silent? You're depressing the fuck out of me."

Maddy was one of them.

**_Maddy Perez_ **

**_Likes:_ ** _Being liked, Soft lights, lacy underwear, the beach, heels, girl talk, her mother (sometimes), red wine, diet coke, and mixed signals._

 **_Dislikes:_ ** _Silence, chipped nails, her father (all the time), doors slamming, stagnancy, being alone, xanax, and me. (sometimes)_

They've only been together for six months. After she had spent nearly a year admiring him quietly and relentlessly, she finally plucked up the courage to approach him for a proposal.

Nate wasn’t good at Spanish; it didn’t take a genius to know that a white kid in an obscure town was _probably_ going to have a hard time speaking a language that wasn’t English. And Maddy? She was awful in History. Luckily for both of them, one of them was raised in a stubborn Latin household; the other grew up with a History professor. They made a good team. 

Every Wednesday they met up at his place to study. He droned on about whatever assignment she had due; sprinkling in unnecessary details until he found himself babbling about the Chinese Dynasty during its Golden Age when they were supposed to be discussing the Cold War. 

To be fair, it was what Nate _actually_ enjoyed. He just happened to be great at tossing a leather ball to a bunch of sweaty testosterone-infused boys.

Soon enough, in those hours of crumpled notebooks; strong coffee, and all-nighters; they got to know each other. 

They spent long nights at diners, danced under the tacky lights of karaoke bars, spent countless hours on the phone only to see each other the next day and still have more to talk about.

Finally, on one drunken Sunday in a particularly grimy corner of town, they kissed.

And he knew he liked Maddy. Except that it wasn’t when she was gossiping about her friends or when she was debating on what outfit to wear, but it was when she spoke about the things she actually _cared_ about. When her eyes would turn almost ferocious at the topic of social activism and the injustice forgotten people faced. This was the Maddy that Nate liked.

"–literally goes and sends me the most fucked up message. I don't fucking understand what her problem is"

Not this one.

"Have you tried asking her?" He inquired.

"Yeah." She said staring at him as though he'd lost his brain cells overnight. "She said she was being a huge cunt for no reason and then we got matching nipple piercings."

"So you didn't ask her."

"Shut up."

“I’m just saying babe, you’re not really gaining anything by overthinking.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dalai Lama.”

“Shut up.”

They both faced each other with challenging grins. He gently grabbed her by her legs and pulled her closer to which she feigned irritation that soon faded into a smile as he kissed her jaw.

“So what’s your conclusion to all of this?” He mumbled, his head resting on her neck.

"Hmm..” She pondered. “Maybe she's acting this way ‘cause she didn't get dicked down yet." 

Nate pulled away and laughed, albeit a little confusedly, a frown puckering between his eyebrows. "How're you so sure?"

"Girls can just tell with these things. But who cares?" Maddy replied, stroking his hair. "I'm so fucking excited for tonight. Cassie managed to score some shit, too."

“Lucas’ party, right?”

Lucas Meyers was a living legend when it came to parties. It didn’t matter if you didn't have anyone to hold on Valentines Day, or you didn’t have someone to get drunk with on St Patrick's Day or if it was even Groundhogs Day; Lucas Meyers was guaranteed to be throwing a party on that commercialised holiday in a way that’ll soothe all your lonely wounds. This time? It was New Years Eve.

“Yeah. And we’re gonna get 15 layers of fucked up.”

***

Rue was not mad at Jules.

But she was not _not_ mad at Jules.

She had decided she was going to march over to Jules’ place in the afternoon, confront her over what she had done – or in this case, not done – and finally ask her the question that was stuck on her mind like caramel buried deep in the crevices of your teeth.

What _are_ we?

But then Jules unknowingly crumpled her plans by deciding to surprise her early in the morning as compensation for last night's absence, carrying with her a ziplock bag stuffed with weed. And so, Rue’s hypothetical confrontation fizzled into oblivion as she laid in bed, gladly alternating between day-old pizza, a joint, and Jules’ tongue in her mouth.

“Wait.” Jules pulled away, emitting a small whine from Rue. “I feel bad bringing this shit. Smoking weed still makes you clean, right? It’s just pills that are the issue, right?”

Fuck. Rue remembered –causing the pit in her stomach to grow larger– Jules didn’t know she had relapsed. In her eyes, Rue was still three months clean. When in actuality, she had cleaned up a line of crushed painkillers with the help of her nose as a vacuum last night. So technically, she was eight hours clean. That counted as clean, right?

“I– Uhm, yeah it doesn’t really cause addiction.” She mumbled, staring anywhere that wasn't directly towards her. “It’s fine, Jules, don’t worry about it.” She chuckled at her worried state.

“God. I’m being a total spaz, aren't I?”

“Not at all.” Rue pecked the corner of her lip in response. She was actually being considerate and sweet, Rue thought. Which is why lying to her soft eyes made this worse for her.

“How was your winter break?” Rue said, eager to change the subject.

“Holy shit! I didn’t tell you what happened.” She pulled away suddenly to sit on the floor. “It was a fucking niiiiiiiiightmare.” She groaned, dramatically melting on the carpet.

“I thought you liked it!” Rue responded in amusement, seating herself up properly in anticipation. She knew Jules had spent the first week with her Dad’s family, but that was before spending the second week being ‘trafficked’ –as Jules liked to put it– to her mom’s place in New York.

“I mean it was great at first, don't get me wrong.” She extolled. “Until I had to deal with that irritating kid-”

“You mean, your step-sister.”

“I will stab you with this blunt pizza.”

They both stared at each other until Rue snorted which led Jules to pelt her with a pizza crust, causing both of them to double in laughter.

“Dude, fuck you. The crust is godly.” Rue exclaimed defensively, popping the crust in her mouth.

“First of all, you’re a fucking heathen. Second of all, this isn’t funny!” Jules responded as both of them tried to stifle their laughter. “I was having the World’s Most Demonic Week dealing with that kid. She wanted to go to Times Square. Tell me, what thirteen year old decides they wanna go to Times Square?”

“Maybe she wanted to see the skyscrapers!” Rue responded, sounding muffled with the doughy pizza bits inside her mouth.

“I thought so too. So I’m like ‘Alright Jules you beautiful angry bitch, it’s fine. We’re probably gonna stay for ten minutes maximum and then head somewhere civilised after’. Right?”

“Right.”

“I was absolutely wrong. And deceived.” 

“Some might even say hoodwinked.”

“You bet your sweet high ass, Rue.” At this point Jules had decided to roll another joint as a form of reparations for her two weeks of forced sobriety. “Turns out, little Kylie decided she wanted to eat somewhere in Times Square. And not just anywhere, Rue. She wanted to go to..” She said, leaving a lengthy pause.

“She wanted to go to–” Jules continued, melodramatically stuttering. “She wanted to– She fucking- I–” 

Taking a deep breath, she gazed at Rue somberly as she lit their joint.

“She wanted to go to Olive Garden.”

“No..”

“YES.”

“NO.”

_“YES.”_

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Rue hooted in laughter, clutching her ribs.

“I wish.” Jules mumbled as she shook her head at the suppressed memory of unlimited breadsticks. “It gets worse.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it, bitch.”

“What happened after?”

“It’s not what happened after.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s what happened before.”

“Say it, dumbass.”

Jules responded by pelting her with another pizza crust and then passing her the blunt.

“We had to stand in line, Rue.”

Rue’s ears perked up. She stood upright, exhaling smoke as her mouth went dry. “How long?”

“..”

“Jules.”

“..”

“Was it thirty minutes?”

Jules scoffed, shaking her head as she stood up, gently inhaling while placing a hand on Rue’s window as though she was a chain-smoking wife awaiting her husband’s return from war. 

“It was two.” She stared ahead, eyes glazed over in mourning of the time lost. “Two hours and fourty-six minutes to be exact.”

“Oh baby.” Rue responded in a hushed tone as she covered her mouth.

“It was snowing, too.”

“SNOWING?”

_“SNOWING.”_

“Oh baby, come here.” Rue whispered as Jules crumpled in her arms. They looked into each other's eyes and burst into a laughter that boomed throughout the house.

They continued smoking as Jules decided to reenact the five stages of acceptance that she had felt in that moment. By then, an hour had passed and they both found themselves in a disheveled state of tears and an imaginary six-pack.

“We’re so dramatic, dude. There’s people dying.” Rue howled, with residual tears.

“Fuck them!” Jules struggled to reply in between fits of laughter. “Those dead fuckers didn’t have to wait nearly three hours for mediocre Italian food.”

“You could’ve spent that time at a nightclub, you know?”

This statement caused Jules’ eyes to light up as though she had reached an epiphany.

“Holy shit. I forgot to tell you.” She said with a mischievous smile.

“What’s up?” Rue responded, smiling warily.

“I got a text from Cassie last night.”

Rue’s smile quickly melted as she decided to make a mental note.

  * _Never underestimate your brain’s ability to ruin a good moment. Never._



She wanted to crawl inside a poorly-furnished hole and never get out. Cassie Howard. She was smart, dependable and absolutely despised Rue Bennett. It wasn’t as though Rue had done anything to purposely hurt her; she just happened to be an absolute horrible friend to her sister, Lexi Howard. Which is why Lexi hasn’t spoken to her since The Incident and most likely hated her guts. Therefore, by the conventional laws of the universe, her sister hated her too.

“What’d she say?” She mumbled.

“There’s a party. Some guy is throwing some New Years bullshit and I wanna get so fucked up that I forget what an Olive Garden even is.”

“I– I don’t know if I'm really up for that Jules."

“Are you serious? No. Like, are you serious?” She responded in exaggerated offense.

“Yeah, I mean what- Don’t Cassie and Lexi live in like, in another town now?” She said, feigning a casual tone. “How are we even gonna go there, let alone convince my mom?”

“Lucky for you.” She swayed, moving closer till she climbed onto Rue’s lap, planting a kiss. “I already told her you’re staying the night at mine. Also, trains exist. Dumb hoe.”

Before Rue could protest, Jules placed a soft finger on her lip.

“Is this because you actually _don’t_ want to go, or is this because of Lexi? Shake your head if it’s for the first one. Nod for the second.”

She nodded.

“Dont. Doooooon’t. _Doooooon’t._ ” She sang. “Rue. I don’t know what the fuck went down with you and Lexi, and honestly? That’s not my business. You’re coming with me, not them. It’s just gonna be you and I for all I fucking care and whatever it is we want. Now.. What do I want? I’m glad you asked! I want us to party our asses off and find someone to makeout with before the countdown. So, what do you want?”

 _To be with you._ She thought.

 _And to also get really fucked up._ She also thought. _So fuck it._

***

“Maddy!” Cassie screeched, running over and throwing her arms around her as Maddy excitedly screamed in response.

“Bitch you look so good.”

“ _Bitch_ , No. _You_ look good.”

Nate watched in amusement with Lexi as they both continued to chatter endlessly. His gaze wandered to the fluorescent lights blaring inside with the sound of music serving as an echo to the outside. The ‘Previous Nate’ would’ve found innate solace in the booming noises and excitement of what his dealer had in store for him tonight. Although he was two months clean, and wanted to keep it that way, he still was dreading the possibility of seeing him tonight. Because he knew no matter how much he tried to suppress it; a part of him craved self-destruction. There was no way of knowing whether he’d give in to that part tonight or not. So he let them continue their conversation and made his way towards the entrance to find out.

The door swung open to reveal a blond, red-faced boy with a smile so wide you would have believed it was permanently glued onto him. In one hand, he held a bottle of tequila and in the other, a massive bong.

“Naaaate. My fucking man.” 

“Lucaaaaas. My _fucking_ man.”

“Come ‘ere you stupid fuck.” He stumbled towards Nate, earning him an aggressive –yet playful– shove.

“Fuck no. You smell like horse dick. Hand over the tequila, little bitch.”

“Fuck yeah, baby. Disrespect me harder.” Lucas replied, handing him the bottle with a smirk.

“Bro, contain yourself for tonight. I got a girl.” Nate teased.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand, almost causing him to fall over. “L-Listen, bro listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“Listen.” He paused. “Whythefuckareyoustanding?” He said high-pitched.

“I just got here.” He responded, bemused.

“Y-You gotta fucking– Gotta fucking get in bro. It’s time to get _fucked_ up.”

While Nate entered the party, Jules and Rue had just arrived. Jules wore a sequin crop top with little details of blue eyeliner in the shape of tiny cubes on her lids. Rue, wore a maroon crop top and opted to wear anxiety on her eyes, instead.

“Cassie! Lexi!” Jules screeched as Cassie and –this time– Lexi decided to screech back at her. Resulting in the same chatter of excitement as before.

She found herself overcome with envy whilst watching Jules. She wanted a second chance. To step inside her life and try to remember how it felt to keep a consistent friendship without fucking it up.

“Hey!” A short girl with long brown hair reached out to shake her hand. “I’m Maddy.”

“I’m Rue.” She shook her hand, smiling shyly. Maybe this was another chance.

“This is the girl I was telling you about.” Cassie said so abruptly and coldly, making it almost hard to believe less than a minute ago she was smiling.

“Don’t be a dick, Cas.” Jules reprimanded.

Rue stood on the side and attempted to calculate the probability of the earth swallowing her whole. She hoped it was very likely. _It’s fine. It’s fine._ “Hey Lex, hey Cas. How’ve you guys been?” She said, hoping her voice hadn’t betrayed her.

“I’ve been-”

“We’re fine.” Cassie interrupted, responding with an icy glare that made Rue wish she had never walked into that stupid party and let Jules convince her that this was a good idea.

“That’s great!” Rue responded a little too enthusiastically as she quickly dashed towards the entrance, avoiding their gaze.

She darted towards the bathroom, pulling out two Dilaudids with a shaky hand. She locked the door, and scrambled around searching for a hard object, settling on a toothbrush container. 

Pressing onto the white pills, she soon started setting them into neat, thin lines, Rue began to wish she could just walk away. Not _run_ away, but to walk it all away. To watch everything that had beaten her black and blue slowly dissipate till she reached her destination. Porcelain and clean. All of her melting.

She unlocked the door. Stumbling around until she reached a corner leading to what looked like an open plan kitchen, the counter serving as the bar for the night, stacked with cans and bottles. Spotting an empty red cup, Rue grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured with a viciously shaky hand. She made another mental note.

  * _The shitty days aren’t the worst part in all this. It’s having to remember that there were good ones to begin with. Also, avoid Jules for now. You beautiful, stupid crackhead._



A number of shots later, Rue had begun to feel blurry. She felt a grin form on her face as her worries and anxieties blurred away, too.

She liked getting drunk and high; loved it in fact. It made her blabber as she felt all of her insides grow fuzzy. In those exultant hours she could finally feel her brain quieten. Wherever she was, it was guaranteed she wouldn’t remember anything the next day, but she knew she felt good. And that counted, at least for her. 

Yet it also made her cry. Alot. Especially alone. And right now? Amongst a swarm of illuminated dancing bodies, Rue felt lonely. Which was worse than being alone.

“Man. You fucking out of it. You good?” She heard a voice call behind her.

She turned to find a man with a beard and bright blue eyes. “What?” She whispered, debating if he was talking to her.

“I said, you out of it bro.” He confirmed. “You got a ‘lil powder there.” He pointed to his nose.

She rubbed her nose with her jacket roughly, remembering Jules was somewhere and she was in no state to be losing her only friend.

“Thanks.” She glanced at him gratefully.

“Been watching you stare at that cup for so long it looked like you were tryna fight it.” He chuckled, leading her to chuckle with him. “You good, man?”

“Never better.”

“You sure you good?”

She paused. “I’d like to think I will be someday.”

“Word. Word.” He nodded, glancing around. “If you wanna try some other shit, let me know.”

“How do I know where to find you?”

“Girl, chill. You gone find me. Happy new years eve.” He responded, strolling away.

She watched him walk away, then shrugged her shoulders as she continued to pour herself another drink.

He decided to step outside into the backyard. He always liked the outdoor seating at parties. He realised that some of his most profound revelations occurred under the soft gaze of the Moon, for it was the only celestial body that could withstand pressure. He pulled out a cigarette and proceeded to light it.

“When are you gonna stop smoking that shit, Fez.” Nate yelled from across, lounging on a lawn chair shaking his head in mock disapproval.

“I’ll do so when the moon crumbles.” Fez yelled back.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means nah.”

Huddled up in a large circle of lawn chairs was Nate, Maddy, Cassie, and Lucas amongst a group of others. They all laid lazily, passing each other nearly-empty vodka bottles and joints.

“Come chill with us, man.”

Fez sat on an empty chair, nestled between Cassie and Lucas, he began to crack jokes with them. Directly facing him was Maddy, wearing a scornful stare. Maddy didn’t like him. At all. The mere thought of all the people he was slowly killing was enough to create a sour taste in her mouth.

“So Fez,” Maddy announced, taking a swig from a nearby bottle. “What’ve you been up to? Still selling drugs to teenagers?”

Everyone grew silent.

“I’m just supplying.” He shrugged, indifferent to the tension building. “If it wasn’t me selling, then it would’ve been somebody else they was buying from.”

“Riiiiiight.” Maddy scoffed, ignoring Nate’s tightening grip on her hand. “I guess that makes it better? You need help.”

He leaned into his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “My sister, only the north stars of the cosmos can help a visionary like me. But, yes, you can try shine a light on a dark corner of my mind."

"I don't speak bullshit."

He ignored her comment. "You’re telling me you never smoked up Maddy?”

“You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about.” She responded through gritted teeth. 

In fact, everyone knew what she was talking about. They just didn’t want to mention the fact that alongside weed, Fez was also selling opiates.

Fez ashed his cigarette, keeping a neutral gaze. “It’s easy money.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Maddy drew her head back and narrowed her eyes. “You think its easy fucking money to ruin someones life? That is NOT okay. How the fuck do you think that’s okay?!”

“Honestly,” Lucas chimed in. “If you choose to go down _that_ route, then you deserve what’s coming to you.”

Nate wasn’t stunned by Lucas’ statement. He was, however, shocked that he felt a tug in his stomach as others hummed in agreement.

He locked eyes with Fez, silently thanking him for not exposing their secret past transactions with a curt nod. Fez in return, nodded back.

But Maddy wasn’t done with him.

“I just think it’s funny how you’re absolving yourself of responsibility as if you don’t have blood on your hands. You son of a–”

Suddenly, Maddy felt a hand grab her and move her towards a silent hidden corner of the backyard.

“What the actual fuck is your problem.” Nate barked.

“What the fuck is my problem? What the fuck is _his_ problem?” She hissed back.

“I swear to god, Maddy. Can I just have one day where you’re not a dramatic bitch.”

“I don’t know.” She scoffed. “Can we have one day where you actually fucking defend me?”

He gave an empty laugh. “Defending you means that somebody is _actually_ trying to harm you. You just went in and fucking ambushed Fez for no goddamn reason.”

Maddy looked at him in disbelief. “He’s ruining peoples lives, Nate.”

“Christ, get off your fucking high horse.” He exasperated. “He’s trying to make a living.”

“He’s turning people into useless junkies.” She glared at him. “That’s what he’s doing.”

Nate poked his tongue into his cheek in an effort to prevent the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“He’s actively fucking up people’s lives and it’s not okay.” She continued. 

“You know what? Believe it or not, not everyone has the privilege of relying on their parent’s trust fund.” He spat back. “He’s gonna continue dealing because he wants to survive in this shitty world, so I hope that little scene of yours made you feel better. You fucked up everyone’s mood.”

She gaped at him, completely taken aback by his foul mood. By now, she’d grown accustomed to his somber moods, but this time felt different.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Nate tapped his temple. “A couple hours ago you were just telling me how excited you were that Cassie managed to score ‘some shit’. From the same guy you just tried to humiliate, might I add.” 

“That’s different.” Her voice grew hostile.

“Oh really?” He retorted. “Tell me how.”

Maddy grew silent. The muffled music served as a background.

“So, MDMA and weed is alright with you.” He continued, filling the silence for her. “It’s just the ‘dirty’ drugs that ‘dirty’ people take that you hate. Because it makes you feel superior, doesn't it?” 

He felt himself growing hotter, clenching his fists in an effort to stop his hands shaking.

“Fuck you.” She retorted. “I never said drug addicts were dirty.”

“You didn’t have to. If I was doing drugs, Maddy. Would you still want me?” He stepped towards her, but his voice was flat as though he already knew the answer. “If I told you I did Heroin. Right here, right now. Would you still be with me?”

He held his breath as he watched her shuffle awkwardly to the ‘hypothetical’ question that he had wondered ever since he picked up those needles. Nate felt himself straying further and further away from society. He found himself stuck in the outer fringes, wanting to participate once again but not knowing how to. And he liked Maddy, with her soft brown eyes and crooked smile. He was finally ready to admit that he just didn’t know if she liked him. The real him. 

Not the sober, charismatic quarterback with the energy and confidence to captivate an entire room and a cellphone that was never idle. But the somber, history aficionado that lies awake in a cold sweat, with a weary heart, and an itching forearm.

“That’s different, Nate.” She responded back in a whisper.

“Answer the question.”

“Nate..”

“Maddy.” He said with a hint of desperation that only he could recognise.

“..No” She finally said. 

She quickly justified her answer. “How did we get to this topic, baby? You don’t even do that shit. I know you’re not that type of guy.”

_That type of guy._

With a single sentence, she managed to unknowingly confirm his worst suspicions about her. For a moment, Maddy saw something in his face contort and watched his gaze soften. Then,– as though punishing his body for reacting without his permission– he clenched his jaw harder, and stormed off. Leaving her to deal with the pieces and a wobbly lip.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here.” Jules said frantically, unbeknownst to what had just occurred. “Have you seen Rue?” and in response, Maddy burst hot tears onto her shoulder.

***

Rue, on the other hand, was having a fucking blast.

After spending nearly an hour debating the anti-xenophobic symbolism hidden in the movie Ratatouille with a coked out college student and his girlfriend upstairs, Rue decided a change of scenery was in order.

She found herself in a corridor with six other identical doors, five shut and only the one next to her slightly ajar. Now, thanks to their hormone-fueled idiocy, Rue probably needed eye-friendly bleach. At the end of the massive hall however, she found a balcony. She began walking towards it when suddenly, one of the locked doors unlocked and before she could react, Rue Bennett found herself face to face with Lexi Howard.

Before deciding on whether to exchange pleasantries or quickly turn back, Lexi decided for the both of them.

“Hey Rue.”

“Uhm. Hey Lex, you good?” She quickly responded, maintaining stiff eye contact as though expecting a slap from her.

Lexi furrowed her brows in confusion. “Yeaaaah. I am. How was your winter break?”

 _Small talk_ , Rue thought. _I can handle that. This is good. I’m good. I can do this. Just act casual, she won’t suspect a thing._

“It was pretty good– It was amazing actually.” She began bluffing, staring into Lexi’s irises. “I went to this Michael Jackson tribute concert. T’was suuper fucking cool dude. You ever wonder how he got white? I think about that. It’s pretty weird how he got white. Do you think his dick just like, _magically_ turned fully white or were there remaining traces–”

“Okay listen, I’ve been thinking about this for a while” She thankfully interrupted. “I think we should talk about what happened.”

“Affirmative. Ditto. One hundred percent.”

“I just think it’s better for us to just clear the air–” Lexi paused. “Wait. Are you on _something_ right now?”

Fuck, Rue thought. The pills were starting to kick in and while she thought she was hiding it sufficiently well. In actuality, she alternated between blinking rapidly, and staring through Lexi blankly. Her speech was slurred, and her body didn’t seem to be able to hold her upright anymore. It. Was. Obvious.

“N-No.” She stuttered, panic slowly planting inside of her.

“Ooooh my god. You totally fucking are.” Lexi stared at her in disbelief. “I can’t fucking believe you. After all the _shit_ that happened? You’re still doing drugs?”

Lexi was starting to grow angry, and Rue was starting to feel it. Anxiety soon began to take hold of her body. She frantically searched her brain to think of what she should say. And Lexi, with her veins growing hotter, became irritated and soon began to walk away.

“Wait!” Rue yelled.

“Yes?” She said.

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, struggling to find the right words to say. Lexi stared back, her heart pounding. Everything hung heavily in the air between them.

“Please don’t tell Jules.” Rue said eventually, leaving both of them disappointed.

Lexi took a long pause, she stared at Rue; at her unruly hair and splotchy eyes as though she was a complete stranger. “I won’t.” She said flatly.

“I’m serious.” She continued. “I know you hate me already. And I totally understand if you want to tell her to get back at me–”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Lexi whispered, not even attempting to hide her hurt. Lexi was like that; vulnerable till the end.

“Fuck! No, Lexi I swear I don’t actually think that. But please, I need her. Just – fuck.” She swore desperately, raking a hand through her hair. “Please, please don’t tell her.” 

“I already said I won’t.” She mumbled.

Before Rue could say anything, Lexi added. “Do you remember how we first met?”

Rue attempted to hide her confused, startled reaction as she let her continue speaking.

“I remember when I first saw you. You had those like, weird glitter headbands –do you remember those? they used to be the shit back then– and I remembered thinking,” her voice croaked. “I wanna be her friend, you know?”

“And you Uh– you shared your lunch with me that day.” She looked down as though the memory was replaying in her head “It’s like you knew I didn’t have anything to eat that day. Then you asked if you could come over and braid my hair and I was like Wow!” She exclaimed, her voice cracking. “How lucky am I?” 

“We weren’t expecting anybody over, so Cas and I didn’t have time to clean up.” She cleared her throat. “And I remember when you saw those wine bottles.” 

Rue gazed at her as tears began to build.

“I was so fucking ashamed. Wanted to strangle my mum with my tiny, middle-schooler hands.” She gave a laugh that quickly turned into a small sob. “But you? You didn’t judge me. You didn’t go to school the next day and tell everyone. You didn’t even look at me differently, you just picked them up and said–”

“We can write letters and put them inside like pirates do.” Rue continued for her softly.

“Then we did just that, do you remember? For that entire year I imagined how cool it would be if someone actually found those bottles we threw out. And that was still the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Lexi’s voice then suddenly turned cold. “What happened to you, Rue?”

“I–” She whispered. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.” Rue finally said, defeated.

“I don’t know how to talk to you, either.” Lexi whispered back, finally turning away from her, leaving Rue alone with a heavy heart stuck inside her throat.

Rue stumbled her way into the balcony, shuffling her pockets for a cigarette and a lighter. She lit her cigarette, exhaling all the oxygen that was harbouring her body. No amount of whiny support groups, overbearing family or extensive therapy is going to change her, she thought. She was still going to be herself; that was precisely the problem.

She gazed down at the bodies of people socializing in the backyard. Rue didn’t know if she wanted to cry or smash every single thing invading her sight. She wanted the world to stop turning for a moment so she could catch her breath. She couldn’t keep up with everything, and everyone. And she hated herself for that.

She began to hear people counting.

***

When she was thirteen years old, she knew things were different. His smile seemed less bright. His eyes were less ‘there’ than before. Her mother’s phone calls with the doctors grew shorter, and his collection of prescribed pills grew larger.

This was during the time when Rue was afraid to enter his makeshift hospital room. She hated the sound the heart monitors made, the repetition of it all; Because she knew that once she got used to its methodical beeping, it would suddenly stop. And she wasn’t prepared for that day. 

Instead, she spoke to him in the hallway. Which, he found endearing. They would play their own variation of ‘I spy..’ and he would always pick the easiest objects because he hated to watch her lose. Which, she hated.

“I spy… An orange cylinder.”

“Easy.” Her high-pitched voice replied. “Prescription pills. Come on, old man. Gimme something harder.

“Alright, alright.” He hummed. “I spy.. A round metal.”

“A round metal? Is it .. A food tray?”

“When have you ever seen a food tray enter this household, Ruester? Does this look like a prison to you?” He teased.

“Alright, alright! No need to get snappy.” She snapped back as he chuckled in response. She could still hear it, to this day. “Give me another hint.”

“It’s something you put things into.”

“Oh! Is it a container?”

“Close. It contains _something_.”

“So it’s shallow? Does it contain objects?”

“Uhmmm.” He pondered her question. “You could say so.”

"I got it!” She said proudly. “It’s a soup bowl.”

“Noooooo...”

“A tea cup?”

“Nope.” He responded, popping the ‘p’.

She furrowed her brows, studying the pale brown wall in front of her. “What the heck is it?”

“It’s my pissing bowl.”

“GROSS, DAD.”

“You said make it hard!” He exclaimed, trying to ‘contain’ his laughter.

“I said make it difficult, not make it deplorable!”

Her father began a loud laugh that quickly transpired into a fit of dry coughs. Rue stood up, worried.

“Dad! Dad, are you okay?!” She yelled, clutching the door frame, too afraid to peek in. “Dad?!”

“I’m alright, honey.” He reassured her in between coughs. “I promise.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Come and see for yourself.” He jokingly taunted.

Rue hesitated, in front of her she saw unused needles and clear fluids that his nurse had left for tomorrow's daily checkup.

“Don’t be a chicken, Ruester.” She had a feeling her father was grinning ear to ear.

When she finally stepped in, she proved herself right.

“I hope you know.” She said, slowly moving towards him. “I only came here to bully you for that awful joke.”

He smiled. “If I had known my dad jokes would’ve finally made you come see me, I would’ve made one sooner.”

She felt a pang of guilt, suddenly feeling childish that she had spent this long avoiding this room – and as a result, avoiding him.

Her father held out an arm, inviting her to lay next to him. He smiled again as Rue sat down, curling her anxious body towards him. She was hesitant to touch him for she feared that one wrong move, he might explode. And she’d be the only one to blame.

As though he sensed this, he slowly put an arm around her and squeezed her closer in assurance that no such thing would occur; thereby, unknowingly soothing her.

She stared at him. He had grown more tired since she last saw him. Less awake.

“I know you’re confused right now. But sometimes, baby, things change. Even when we don’t want them to.” He said, in his familiar fatherlike tone. “We make choices that end up hurting people, and people make other choices that end up hurting us. I have no doubt that’s going to happen to you, I’m just upset I won’t be there to comfort you. But that does make it pretty cool, huh? That life is a game.” 

“Like ‘I spy..’?” She said innocently.

He gave a short laugh, fearful she might worry. “Yes, honey. Like ‘I spy..’”

The two of them turned to watch _Friends_ on mute, she nestled closer to him, drinking every word he was struggling to utter.

“It’s a game but that’s the beauty of life, Ruester. It’s beautiful, and painful. Sometimes even at the same time.” She looked at him puzzled as he continued. “You just.. You gotta choose the right kind of pain.”

“How do I know if it’s right for me?” She questioned softly.

“You have to participate to find out.” He mumbled, dozing off to sleep as she counted the beating of his heart and the machine.

  
  


***

  
_January_

Jules excitedly pranced onto the balcony, ready to excitedly tell her about her magical countdown kiss, and scold her for her abrupt disappearance only to find Rue in the dark, dry wheezing, and shaking uncontrollably. 

And so, she cupped her face and gently kissed her forehead. She held her and foolishly attempted to bring back the breath that was viciously snatched away from her. And she listened to her incoherent speech about monitors, glitter headbands, and chickens as both their hearts broke in two.


	3. daily watershed moment

_January_

  
  


“So i’ll just stay at the cafe, alright? Literally, just call me the minute you’re done, alright? You sure you don’t want me staying there? I can stay there, actually. You know what, Dad? Just park the car-”

“Jules.” Rue laughed. “I’m fine! It’s just gonna be an hour, okay? Don’t be so anxious.”

“What she means is ‘Get that stick out of your ass’.” Her dad chimed in.

“Exactly. In a PG13 type of way.” Rue joked back.

“I hate the both of you. Morons.” Jules rolled her eyes. “Just.. Call me when you’re done, alright?” Rue nodded in confirmation as she waved back to them, entering the building.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t acting this way since last night. Watching Rue hunched up in the corner of the well-lit moonlight created a form of sickness that had nestled inside her stomach with no way of knowing how to get rid of the nausea. 

She would also be lying if she said she wasn’t riddled with flaming capillaries, and gasoline-soaked guilt that rested upon her brain for leaving Rue to practically fend for herself at that party. Which Rue attempted to unsuccessfully snuff out.

Jules Vaughn was gentle rain. She was freckles, blond hair, soft limbs, and frozen devotion. Ever since she could remember, she had felt empathy. Which was a virtue sometimes. Until she would find herself as a child, crying over Disney villains having their intricate evil plans fall apart. When she stayed at a psychiatric ward, she found herself gravitating towards the ‘lost causes’ because it pained her to think that someone can quickly be deemed worthless. Because she had always viewed life as a series of humans nervously standing on paper-thin floors, and one action or inaction could find you tumbling down, down, down. Whether intentional or not, it didn’t matter to her. We were all vulnerable lumps of flesh just waiting to be loved. And in her eyes, even a liar held their own different truth.

Her father managed to find a parking spot, causing him to hoot in joy. Jules rolled her eyes again, uncuffing her seatbelt and ready to open the door when her father stopped her.

“Jules.. Do you think I could stay there with you? Just for a bit?” He suddenly grew hesitant.

“ Look whose got a stick up their ass now?” Jules playfully joked, in an attempt to defuse his sudden somber mood. “What’s up?”

“I-..” He held his mouth open. “Let’s get a coffee or something first, alright?”

“Long as you’re paying bruh.” 

Jules quickly skipped towards ‘The Happy Bean’, which held a cozy backyard-esque outdoor seating area, covered with trees and massive mismatched chairs. Rue suggested this place for her to wait in after Jules had stubbornly deflected all her attempts to get rid of her. Their logo carried an adorable coffee bean as a mascot. Apparently, he was meant to be an Ethiopian bean. She liked him. 

Her father soon followed after her. “What the hell does ‘bruh’ even mean?”

“It’s like bro. Or, brethren, as your people say.”

He placed his arm on his chest in mock offense. “My people? How old do you think I am?”

“Do you _reaaaally_ want me to answer that?”

“Oh, be quiet.” He grumbled. “Go and find a place for us to sit in while I order.”

“Sheesh! Tough crowd.” She grinned. “I’ll just have water.”

She began to slowly stroll around this tiny, ghost-quiet cafe and chose the seating directly facing the garden through a glass panel. She wondered how many hours Rue had spent here. She began to imagine tiny ‘Rue’s all around the cafe. Rue lighting her cigarettes in the outdoor seating area, Rue drinking sugar-less coffee and journaling, Rue on her computer, chewing her lips in frustration. 

“Aaaaand here you go.” Her father sat across her, handing her peppermint tea.

“”What- Dad? I said I wanted water?” Half-joking, half-annoyed because she secretly wanted Rue to pick a drink for her when she got here.

“I know. I know. But I read somewhere that peppermint ‘detoxes’ you. And you probably need that after last night.” He grinned and waggled his brows.

“Oh, come on. This is what your ‘serious talk’ is about? Partying?” Jules responded, bringing the tea to her lips.

“It’s actually about lying.” He said, still maintaining a warm, defenseless smile. 

Jules froze.

“Her mom called me last night, you know? Didn’t know what the hell she was talking about since the both of you left without telling me that _her own mother_ didn’t know she was heading off to a party. Once she started talking to me about some ‘sleepover’, I finally got the jist of what you did.”

“She’s spent this entire winter break at home, Dad.” She quietly protested, shuffling in her seat “I just hate seeing her like that..”

“Jules, relax. I’m not gonna ground you or lecture you or anything like that. Back in my ‘brethren’ days I did the same things you did. Only difference is that I know you’re sensible. You know what that girl is going through, I just hope you’re not making it harder on her.”

Jules hoped so, too.

“And this is not what my ‘serious talk’ is about.” His voice still carried a light-hearted tone yet his eyes grew more serious

“Oh god, it gets worse.” The corners of her mouth turned up.

“I mean technically, yeah. It’s about your Mom.”

Jules' smirk slowly faded. 

“What about her?” Jules mumbled, studying the wooden table in front of them.

“She wants you to come over for dinner.”

_Tell her to eat my dick._

“Juliet.” He frowned.

“Did I just say that outloud?”

He nodded. 

“Wasn’t that week enough? Can’t I just say no?” Jules pleaded.She could barely stomach the mention of her mother, let alone an entire day trapped with her.

“Afraid not.”

Jules groaned loudly, turning heads from the staff. “When?”

“She said Friday is good with her.”

“I meant it in a ‘When did she decide to become a decent human being all of a sudden?’ type of way. ”

He sighed. “Look at this way, Julie. Maybe this could be a new turning point between you two.”

She sat silently. “Tell her if she orders Olive Garden, I’m leaving.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would she order Olive Garden?”

***

  
  


“So, Rue. How are we feeling today?”

“I’m great, actually.”

Which was true. Despite laying on a squeaky leather couch and battling a throbbing headache, Rue was actually elated.

“That’s lovely. But before we continue this session, I must call your mother to confirm you’ve arrived.”

If her mother could place a tracking bracelet on her, she would. 

While she waited for her mother to pick up. Rue began to study her dull office.

Eleven inspirational posters. Five of them revolved around addiction.

With the exception of a neon Post-It note. Her entire office carried various hues of black and white.

“Hello? Mrs. Bennett? It’s Dr. Yang. Good morning to you, too..”

Dr. Yang. Married, a mother of three, and has a soothing voice. She wanted to be a singer; and she would’ve made it. In an alternate universe, she would have performed in rapt concert halls from Budapest to Tokyo on a tour that quickly sold out, while also becoming the first female Asian artist to have gone Platinum. She would have been one of the most talented musicians of the past century. Instead, fearing the heavy momentary disappointment of her Chinese immigrant parents; Dr Yang chose the more ‘realistic’ route and became a therapist in an obscure town.

“Now.. that’s out of the way.” She kept a comforting tight-lipped smile. “How did you spend your New Years?” 

_Easy,_ she thought. _Hyperventilating in the back of the A-train with a beautiful girl._

“Slept over at Jules.” Rue shrugged. “It was great.”

Yang hummed in response, Rue could physically see her mind churning. “Have you had any..” Yang paused, searching her brain for the best way to word her question. “Intrusive memories of your father?”

Rue began to quietly knock on the black wooden table beside her and counted each tap .

Rue has lied in every single therapy session. At this point it has grown to be entertaining. She would make up stories of things she wished had happened. For example, last week Lexi frantically banged on her door begging to be friends again, and Rue humbly accepted. Two weeks ago, her mother told her how proud she was of her. A month ago? Jules and Rue made it official. 

Of course, none of it was real. But that’s what made her look forward to her sessions. Hearing someone else share the fantasy with her. It didn’t matter if none of it was real; Because it felt real to her. And that’s what mattered.

“None at all.” She finally responded, reaching 40 knocks. 

“It appears..” Yang ignored her response and began to robotically shuffle through Rue’s extensive folder. “That this is your senior year. I just want to say, I’m very proud of you. What you’ve been through wasn’t easy. You have my congratulations for making it this far, Rianne.”

Rue responded with gun fingers.

“Lovely. Anyways, we’ve been decluttering your past for some time now. But now, considering you’re going off to school tomorrow; I’d like to discuss your future with you.”

Rue slowly melted her gun fingers.

“Have you taken into account where you’d like to go to college?”

Rue shook her head.

“That’s fine. This is very common, Rue. How about a major? Any ideas?”

She shook her head again.

“Also very common around people your age!” Yang chuckled nervously. “What about your hobbies? Yes! Let’s discuss hobbies. What do you enjoy?”

Rue blew raspberries and studied her office. “Uhm. Math, I guess?”

Surprisingly, this wasn’t a lie. Ever since she could remember, Rue was in love with numbers. There was beauty in order. The algorithms. It contained everything life wouldn’t grant you; Answers.

“Math! That’s very practical, Rianne!” Dr Yang suddenly sprouted in relief.

“Yeah, I love numbers. You think I’d be a good drug dealer?”

“Not funny.”

“You’re right. I’d probably fail the first rule. Can’t get high off of my own supply, right?”

“Rianne.”

“I’m done!” Rue cackled. 

“Are you really?” Dr Yang looked at her blankly. “Considering you’ve recently relapsed, I find that inappropriate to joke about.”

 _Christ._ She thought. _This is gonna take a while._

***

She quickly bid her farewells to Dr Yang, promising to see her next week. She held her phone and entered the waiting room preparing to let Jules know she’s on her way, only to look up and find her slouched on a chair.

Jules stood up quickly. “Hey! How was it?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my god. Jules, did you walk back here?”

“It was like, a five minute walk.” She forced a smile. “I just wanted us to head there together.”

Rue’s heart welled up. “Your wish is my command. Let’s go. I’m fucking itching for some coffee.”  
Stepping outside, Rue immediately lit her cigarette, emitting a dramatic dirty look from Jules.

“Oh, grow up!” 

Her phone began to ring. It was her mother.

“Dr. Yang just told me you finished. I’m picking you up, alright?”

“I’m actually with Jules right now.” Rue felt herself beaming as Jules grinned at her.

“Oh really now?” Her mother snarled back. “Pass her the phone. Right now.”

“What?” Rue furrowed her brow. “Mom I literally told you we’re gonna hang out before I left.”

“I didn’t ask for all of that. I said, give her the phone. How do I know you’re not fucking lying to me again?”

Rue’s face slowly grew hot, her stomach dented and her throat seemed to have been filled with thick liquid, slowly choking her. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I. Don't. Fucking. Believe. You.”

“Mom-”

“Why’re you stalling? You running off again, ain’t you? I fucking knew it-”

Rue immediately shoved her phone onto Jules chest, emitting a confused stare from her. Jules regained her motion and soon began small talk with her mother that quickly transpired into intricate lying details of their slumber party last night.

By the time they reached The Happy Bean, Jules was saying her goodbye’s, and Rue half-expected her mother to apologise for doubting her. But she didn't. She never would.

“I think I need an X-ray scan.” She said as soon as she hung up. “I wouldn’t be shocked if I saw an imprint of your phone on my tits.” She jokingly winced as they entered.

“I’m so sorry Jules, I didn’t mean to do that. I- She just gets me so angry sometimes, you know? Like every fucking discussion with her feels like I’m constantly trying to prove to her I’m not some junkie.”

“Hey, at least you know she cares. I can’t say the same for mine.” 

Rue sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“One more apology from you and I’ll get Amadi to swat you with a broom.”

They stood in line as Rue stared at her blankly. “What the fuck is an Amadi?”

“The bean mascot? Duh.” Jules responded, as though it was a simple fact of life.

“Noooo fucking way.” Rue began to cackle loudly, “You did not ask those poor underpaid baristas what the name of a fucking cartoon bean is.”

“I sure did! You took your sweet time over there, I figured I might aswell get to know this place.” Jules defended herself.

“You’re a fucking nutcase, you know that?”

“Some might even say, a bean-case.”

“That made no sense and I hate you. Go find us a place to sit in. You’ve just lost your ordering privileges.”

She playfully pouted as she walked away to the outdoor seating, finding two chairs across from each other, nestling under a massive weeping willow.

As she crossed her leg onto her cushioned seat, Jules found herself overcome with an innate urge to rush over to her once more and cradle her, to listen to every aching thought she owned, and then quietly crawl into her chest as the rest of the day transgressed. 

The idea of her continuing a life without her pummeled Jules into despair as she thought. _Don’t let anything between us change. Don't let her become someone else when she's away from me. Because soon enough, she'll do the same to me. Don't let her become someone I've never seen before, because I’m not sure if I can handle it._

By the time Rue arrived, she found Jules hugging her knees, staring blankly at the chair across her.

“You alright?” Rue smiled worryingly.

“I’m great.” She bluffed. “Just thinking about how tacky this furniture is.” 

“I knew you’d say that.” Rue grinned, setting down their drinks. “You artsy kids are all the same.”

“Excuse me? Girl, look at it.”

“I’m looking at it.”

“Well, look harder. It’s trash.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rue said carefully.

“Why would I not be okay?”

“I dunno.” Rue shrugged, fearful to overstep her boundaries. “You just seem.. off.”

“Oh my god. I’m fine!”

“That’s bullshit.” Rue propped herself up on her seat. “Okay. Shake your head if this is about a beautiful piece of furniture and you’re actually fine. Nod your head if something happened while I was gone.”

Jules hesitated and began to nod.

She then stopped, choosing instead to slowly shake her head.

***

By the time they reached Rue’s place. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“How was therapy?” She chirped, slicing vegetables.

“It was okay.” Rue grumbled.

“Don’t catch an attitude with me.”

“I’m not.” Rue suddenly snapped.

They faced each other. Her mother then sighed and turned towards Jules.

“I hope you’re not giving your mother hell like she is.”

Rue fought to not roll her eyes as Jules chuckled. “It’s actually the opposite with us.”

“All teenagers think the same thing. She’s probably looking out for you.” She replied with a not so subtle glare at her daughter. 

When Jules looked at Rue and her mother, all her angsty friends in New York and their exasperated mothers, she knew in her heart that they loved each other. Even if they fought endlessly, they still held an unbreakable love. It was a simple fact.

Jules shuffled awkwardly, feeling the air stiffen. “I’m not so sure. We don’t really talk much.”

Rue’s mother gazed at her sympathetically. “It’ll change. Just give it time.”

 _What if that isn’t the problem_ , she thought. When she was younger, she thought this was the core issue of their deteriorated relationship. Time. But what if, the crippling truth was that she and her mother just weren’t a good fit? The same way you outgrow a shoe, or a flimsy dress? 

Maybe the problem wasn’t that they’ll never tolerate each other; Maybe the problem was that she kept hoping they magically would.

“Alright!” Rue clapped, causing her to jump. “Me and Jules have got meetings to attend to upstairs.”

“Alright, business lady.” Her mother smiled at Rue, causing Rue to grin at her as though their past hostilities never occurred. “Jules, are you joining us for dinner?”

“Say yes.” Rue chimed in.

“Yeah, what the walking dumpster bag said.” 

“My people prefer to be called ‘flaming garbage cans’ now, Mom.”

“Do you now?” Her mother struggled to contain her laughter. “Well, I sincerely apologize.”

“Apology acknowledged.”

Jules watched them and felt an urge to burst into tears.

Some days, she felt as though she could barely contain her love for others, which terrified her. Because it felt as though in any moment her heart could walk away and search for a more suitable home; to find a place that could finally handle the enormity of its desire.

Other days, she felt it shrinking in disdain, shriveling up until all that was left was an empty spot. Which also terrified her, because she was almost positively sure that she had a heart at some point. But what use is it now when you’re hollow?

Right now? She didn’t know which ‘day’ it was. All she knew was that she was terrified.

Once they reached her room, before Rue could say anything, Jules locked the door and smashed her lips to hers, grabbing Rue’s face with her hand and forcing her tongue into her mouth. She whimpered at the sudden force of her kiss, before melting against the doorframe and grabbing her hair in her fist. Jules was kissing her hungrily, hands grabbing at her clothes roughly, as if she only had minutes with her.

“Wait- Hold on.” Rue backed up, catching her breath. “Are you _sure_ nothing happened today?”

Jules ignored her, gently picking her up and moving her to her bed. She pulled away and repositioned her waist so that her whole body was over hers, before leaning back down and kissing her again. She then began to slowly suck on her neck, nipping the spot and then soothing it with her tongue. Rue began to grow hot and squirm under her touch.

“Jules.” She gasped.

She undid her jeans with one hand and tugged them down to her ankles, before running a hand along her thigh and hooking her fingers around the waistband of Rue’s underwear. 

“Let’s not talk about it.”

***

Nate had spent the entirety of today nursing a headache and poorly attempting to finish his winter-break homework. Only getting up twice to go to the bathroom and to head downstairs for Dinner Drudgery. 

“I take it you had a great New Years.” The corners of her mother’s mouth turned up as she watched him sloggily enter.

“Let’s just hope he didn’t make a fool of himself.” His father responded for him.

_**Cal Jacobs** _

_**Likes:** _ _Being the most powerful man in the room, Frank Sinatra, football, Budweiser, brunettes, silence, secrets and himself._

**_Dislikes:_** _Everything._

She ignored him, keeping her warm smile on Nate as he sat down. “Got any history facts for me?”

“Today’s the first, right?” Nate rasped, raking through his brain as he scooped roasted vegetables onto his plate. “Brunei’s independence day is today, actually.”

“That’s interesting!” Her mother beamed.

Nate smirked. “Your turn.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her foot. “Sudan’s independence day is also today. Bonus fun fact: It’s actually meant to be on December 19th, but they postponed the signing till the 1st.”

They both smiled at each other. 

**Theresa Jacobs**

**_Likes:_ ** _conspiracy theories, polished hardwood, a clean home, baby blues, Marvin Gaye, giving lectures, slow jazz, and honey_

 **_Dislikes:_ ** _a cluttered sink, profanity, inconsistency, strong coffee, and lies_

“How’s Maddy?”

Nate groaned internally. “We’re actually taking a break.” _Again._

She gasped dramatically, dropping her knife. “Oh no! That’s terrible! What happened?!”

Before Nate could answer, his father retorted. “This is good. That girl is an inconvenience to your future, Nathaniel. Use your time wisely.”

His mother laughed coldly, quickly darting her eyes towards his father.

Nate recognised that laugh. He watched his mother slowly. The daily watershed moment. If she was in a good mood, she would ignore his father entirely and focus her attention on Nate. If, however, she was in a bad mood, she would redirect _all_ her attention towards his father, slowly chipping his nerve till she was close to his last one. It made every dinner night deliciously disgusting.

“Speaking of inconveniences.” She cleared her throat. “Diane called again.”

His father froze in his seat, holding his fork. “And?” He said slowly.

“She wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s meeting is cancelled.” His mother’s voice grew louder and senile as she added. “Maybe you could spend that time having lunch with her? How does that sound?”

“Why would I do such a thing?” His expression dulled, feigning irritation. 

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “I don’t know, Cal. Why would you?”

He put down his utensils and bore into her eyes.

“Theresa. I urge you to reconsider your next words.”

She was attempting a powerhold on him. And his father knew it. What they both didn’t know was that the essential puppet – Nate. Also knew.

It began roughly three years, five months and 38 days ago. Theresa Jacobs, found out exactly one year, two months and four broken-hearted days ago. But who’s keeping count? 

Nate looked at them back and forth as though he was a silent spectator. All of their interactions messily calculated. When he looked closely at the seams between order and chaos of their marriage, he wondered if they saw the same things he saw. The strain, the tears, the glimpses of truth hidden underneath. Why did they fight so desperately to mask who they are? Or did they become who they were when they put on the mask?

He looked at his father’s mask. The hardworking husband. The man who longs for ‘peace and quiet’ from his desperate, nagging wife. The man who stares at the moon and longs to crush it, just so that he can watch the world clutch for air as it drowns, knowing that he had orchestrated its demise.

He looked at her mask. The dutiful wife. The woman who grits her teeth and kisses her husband goodnight knowing he had laid those same lips upon another. The woman who only looks good in pictures, the grit under his nails. The overflowing sink. The burden.

He wondered when she would finally break out of the script. When would she finally start thinking of herself the way his father thought of himself? To finally nurse her bleeding chest, gushing out like cherries under his jaw. Would the doctors pry her chest open, look at her heart and mend it? Or would they tell her, “Baby, we just don’t make band-aids big enough for this.”

Then he suddenly remembered his town. His stupid, fucking town. He wondered how people have ruined their own lives by uttering, ‘I can’t do that. What will people say?’. 

But it didn’t matter to people if he broke your heart till the sun yielded in horror for you. As long as you kept a stiff smile for others to envy; You were good to go. He wondered if those people realised they collectively held blood on their hands. Technically they hadn’t physically killed someone; but he was pretty sure they slaughtered a few of them inside. A part of themselves they will never get back.

Because that was everyone’s contract with society. Selling their sanity for the sake of cheap acceptance. A warm, messy circle of humanity.

“Nathaniel?” His mother finally uttered, turning fully towards him. “Any more history facts for me? Maybe something era-specific?” She pried a weak smile for him, ignoring his father. Silently admitting defeat, once again.

He wasn’t shocked. If she did muster up the courage to leave him, he wondered if his father would have a story prepared for everyone else; where she was suddenly unmasked to be the treacherous ‘jealous’ villain? And most importantly, would people buy it? 

The answer to that was easy. Because it didn’t matter if it was 400BC Greece, The Akkadian Period, Jim Crow, or 2020. Societies have always believed men like Calum Jacobs. It was a tragedy as old as time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy belated Mother's Day ;p can you all tell that i grew up in a dysfunctional household yet orrrr


	4. fear eats the soul

_January_

Monday to Thursday was filled with despairing back-aching school assignments for an Adderall infused Rue. 

How did Nate spend his week? Well…

***

_Monday_

“Did you fuck anyone?” Maddy hissed, slamming his locker door for him.

“When?”

She drew her head back like an anaconda, ready to pounce. “During or after the party. Did you fuck someone or not?”

“Why does it matter?”

She took a deep breath. “It matters..” she said slowly. “Because I’m you’re fucking girlfriend.”

Nate smirked. “I thought we were taking a break.”

“God. Get it together, we were on a break for like two days. It doesn’t count.”

“Then why’d you tell me that we’re on a break?”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“That 12 minute voice note you sent says otherwise.”

“Are you fucking– Look.” She sighed. “Did you? Or did you not?”

“I don't know. Did you?”

“I’m literally going to stab myself with a calculator. Resurrect. And then kill you.” She responded, storming off.

_Tuesday_

“Was it the loud girl? with the Cheeto breath? That wore sneaker wedges? If it is, Nate I swear to god”

“Shut up.”

_Wednesday_

**_Maddy P_** _11:08AM_

_Meet me at the field. 5 minutes. xx_

“Jesus. What took you so long?”

“Believe it or not. This is a pretty massive school–”

“Did you have sex with anyone or not?”

Nate groaned. “Why can’t we have a conversation about the weather or some pleasant shit like that?”

“Fine.” Maddy pressed her lip. “The weather is great today, right?”

“It is, actually.”

“The air is a little too thick though.” She retorted. “Almost as thick as that bitch you were probably fucking, right?”

_Thursday_

“On 1499, Martin Luther began his mission to end…”

Nate sat taking notes when a flying object smacked his cheek. His eyes darted furiously only to look down and find that it was just a paper note. He slowly opened it.

_im not mad anymore. just please tell me if u were with someone_

Nate rolled his eyes, writing back.

_I wasn’t. I don’t cheat. You know that._

He gently threw it back to her and almost immediately received a response.

_can i see u after class :-)_

Soon after, the bell rang. Nate gathered his belongings and patiently stood outside waiting for her. Once Maddy arrived, she gave a breathy sigh.

“Hey.” She said.

“Hey.”

“Okay look, every relationship has its ups and downs. ” She began. “And I know I can be a little paranoid sometimes and I totally know that but– cheatersayswhat.”

“What?”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”

_Friday_

By now, Nate’s patience had grown thin. Rather than wait to be ambushed by Maddy with her personal vendetta against his fictional hookup, he reached for her arm during lunch and pulled her towards their Secret Spot underneath the bleachers.

“Alright. What the fuck is going on with you?” He snapped.

“Nothing.” She said, twirling the ends of her hair.

“Really? ‘Cause these past days don’t really seem like ‘nothing’, don’t you think?”

“I just don't know why you wont tell me..” She began to clap each syllable. “Who The Fuck This Bitch Is?”

“Fuck sakes, Maddy. Why would I cheat on you during a party? That you’re attending? In front of everyone? Or even have the time to go fuck some random girl?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re fucking stupid?”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re a dick.”

They stood facing eachother with challenging glares until Nate broke into a smile. She was cute when she was angry.

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” He stepped closer, draping his arms around her hesitant body till she was resting her temple on his chest.

“I-I don’t know.” She said, sounding muffled. “You were so cold to me at New Years— The way you looked at me. I– Just, Fuck. Can you _really_ blame me?” She looked up at him, tears welling up.

“Don’t cry, baby. You’re too pretty to cry in a public school.” He jokingly poked her side. “Plus, why would I do that, Maddy? You’re the only one I want.”

She looked up at him with her large beautiful brown eyes, as though to say “Do you really mean that?”

She then pulled away, flashed him a shy smile and asked him. “You got anything after school? Maybe we could watch a movie or something, or like, maybe you could come over? Or whatever.” She said as nonchalant as possible, with her heart pounding.

He coughed into his sleeve, "I don’t think I can, Mads."

She paused for a second to recollect her thoughts, as though she was physically picking up the pride she had so effortlessly thrown at his feet.

“Why not?” She said slowly.

“I’m busy.”

"You said the same thing last Friday."

"I know."

She stared at him blankly. "So what the fuck is up?"

"Again, Maddy?" He exasperated.

"Alright." She said softly, slightly defeated. "We don’t have to talk about it."

If there was anything she didn’t want in her life; it was to lose Nate. Sometimes she wondered if he knew that the mere thought of him breaking up with her left her with a sickly feeling in her mouth and a tightness in the chest. Some nights she wondered if he used that information to his advantage. Or maybe, he didn’t care enough to figure that part out. She didn’t know which was worse. So don’t fucking ask her.

Nate gazed at her face, kissed her forehead and promised to make it all up to her tomorrow, and they both entered back to reality. Hand in hand. Once again

***

Once Nate was home, he mumbled stiff conversation with his mother through spoonfuls of yogurt. Try as he might, he still appreciated his mother’s ability to remain cheerful with a drug addict son and a crumbling marriage to spare.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Nate thought as he watched his father stride into the kitchen. They gave eachother a curt nod.

“Justice Beatnik tonight already?” His father said in a monotone voice.

“Just Beat It, honey.” Theresa quickly corrected him.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?” He replied coldly. “He should be spending this time practicing, not cramped inside a room filled with fuck ups.”

Ah.. The infamous discussion. It was one of Calum Jacobs’ predictable conversational topics on what Nate should be doing and not doing with his time. That, and how his Evil Mexican Girlfriend is brainwashing his precious Caucasian Moron of a Son into wasting his time, instead of focusing on more important things —Football.

“Calum.” His mother warned.

Calum, instead, chose to invade Nate's personal space and glare.

“Remember. This is all you. What you did” He gritted his teeth. “All that Disgusting Shit you put in your body? That was all you. And it was all Entirely _Fucking_ Preventable.”

His father had a habit of randomly dramaticising certain words. For emphasis. And it was –as Nate would put it– Fucking Annoying.

“Your cologne smells great. A little too feminine for my taste” Was all that Nate had to say in response. He watched his left eye intently.

Nothing.

“Your breath smells like fish, too.” Nate craned his head back for emphasis on it’s pungency. “I thought you hated fish?”

Which was true. Since a fishing incident that had occurred at the tender age of five. Calum Jacobs despised the stench –let alone taste– of fish. Its mere presence was strictly banned in the Jacobs’ household. Nevertheless, Nate had done some _extensive_ research on Diane’s social media and found that she was an avid sushi lover. Therefore, by extension, Calum was forced to enjoy it too. If he was to continue to stick his tongue down her throat —That is.

_Twitch_

_There we go_ , he thought.

“Enjoy that shithole.” Were his father's last words for him before storming off. Leaving his son with a satisfied smirk and his wife scurrying after him in a confused hurry.

***

“I have to say. This has got to be the cruelest thing anyone has ever done in the history of mankind”

“That might be a _slight_ overreaction on your part, Julie.”

“No actually.” She turned towards him, carrying a ridiculously tiny backpack in comparison to the people around them carrying overnight duffel bags and suitcases. “This is an underreaction. What you’re doing is unethical. It’s written in the Declaration of Human Rights, Dad.”

“Oh really.”

“You betcha.”

“Could you jog my memory?”

“Nope. Sounds like it’s your personal problem for being an old person with bad memory.”

“Nice.” Her dad attempted to hide his grin. “How about a little snippet for the decaying senior citizen?”

“God, fine. Quit begging already.” She cleared her throat dramatically. “Thou shall not force thy daughter to a boring dinner with their mother as a form of bonding. Section 420.”

Her father stared at her in endearment. He was so utterly enraptured and felt undeniably lucky that she was his daughter. He felt grateful that he had the privilege of watching her stumble onto womanhood.

Standing amongst the bustling bodies and monotone droning of train destinations. Jules’ dad knew how unfair he was being to her with this dinner. But he also knew how important of a lesson this was for her.

“You know, Jules.” He started. “Right now you wanna kill me and every single person in your sight. But this is an important step. For the both of you.”

“Yeah” Jules scoffed. “Say that to her.”

His eyes grew sad. “I hope you’re not angry at me Jules.”

“Dad.” She hugged him tightly. “Nothing you could ever do would make me angry at you. Okay?”

She gave him a warm reassuring smile, which he needed.

“Train to New York..” The train conductor obnoxiously boomed. “I repeat, train to New York.”

She hugged him once again, got on the train with everyone else and set her bag on the seat beside her.

“Take care of yourself out there, alright?” He belted as the train began to move.

She rolled her eyes and yelled back. “It’s a thirty minute ride. I don’t think there’s a lot that can go wrong.”

They looked at eachother as their faces grow more distant and somehow, both of them knew that he wasn’t just talking about the train.

***

After a brief scavenger hunt for taxis, Jules managed to finally find one that was willing to take her to Manhattan during rush hour. She immediately slouched onto the leather seat and silently thanked God for giving her less time to spend with her mother.

Whenever things got too uncomfortable, Jules would pretend she didn’t exist. She sat, inspecting everything as the quiet humming of the taxi car carried her away; she felt invisible watching bodies around her carry on with their grueling errands. She also liked to make up stories about the strangers she’d see roaming. Sometimes, she’d imagine she was a coming of age character in a book that’s about experience something inherently terrible yet predictable for her character growth. It helped justify why bad things kept happening to her. Because realising that awful things happen without any sort of logic or reason that could explain it was too painful.

“Native?” Her taxi driver suddenly uttered. Sensing her confusion he added. “You from New York?”

“Oh! Yeah I am, but I moved away. So I’m just visiting my Mom for a bit.”

“Ah..” He hummed in response.

“Where are you from?” She asked politely

“Me?” He said, to which Jules nodded. He pointed towards himself, keeping the other hand on his wheel. “Morocco.”

“Woah.” She awe’d in response. “How is Morocco? I’ve never been there, is it pretty?”

He flashed her a bright smile. —He had a massive gap tooth and a couple of empty spots where some of his teeth were meant to be.

“Morocco very beautiful. The land, the people and beach? Very lovely. But the Government?” He said, immediately imitating vomiting noises that left Jules belting out in laughter.

“You happy to see Mama?” He suddenly said with a sweet smile, leaving Jules to remember where she was, who she was and the life she was living, causing her smile to abruptly exit.

He seemed to have noticed, as he quickly added “Oh no. I did not mean to make you sad.”

Jules just as quickly, comforted him. “No! Not at all! I-It’s just that my Mom and I don’t really have the best relationship. You know?”

She felt herself growing hot and suddenly painfully aware of how stuffy a moving death trap was.

“Could you open the window please?” She said, a lot more frantically than she’d like.

He obliged, darted his eyes towards her worryingly. Suddenly, he grew calm.

“You are scared.” He said, as though it was a nonchalant obvious statement that required no further debating. Like ‘the sky is blue.’

Jules found herself quickly wanting to dispel his accurate theory only to find herself tired of pretending to be okay. Tired of maintaining a smile with an accompanying snide comment so that others wouldn't worry, because for once, she couldn’t hide the painfully obvious fact; She was petrified of being around her mother.

“Yeah.” She whispered softly, staring at the rows of cars ahead of them. “Yeah I am.”

He looked at her, nodding his head for her to go on.

“I don’t think she likes me.” She said hurryingly, as though she was spitting out acid. “It’s like I spend my life carrying this like–” She struggled to find the words. “This orange, right? A-And I’m holding it _all the time_. Even when I’m enjoying my life, I still carry this stupid orange with me and–”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” She stopped herself, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “What is your name?”

He pointed towards himself again, this time saying “Abdulrahman. And you?”

“Oh.” She gave a breathy sigh. “That’s gonna be pretty hard for me to pronounce, but I’ll try. Nice to meet you Aboodil Rayman, I’m Juliet.” She extended her hand out to him.

He stifled his laughter, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you, Juliet. Please, continue.” Giving her an encouraging smile.

“Where was I? Oh! The stupid orange. So, sometimes there are days where it’s so light that it feels like I’m not holding it, right? But then there are those days where I’m just _so exhausted_ from holding it Rayman, you have no idea. But I’m also aware enough to know that I can’t just _drop_ the orange. If I drop it, someone’s gonna be upset, or mad or maybe even both. Or worse, someone sees me struggling with that orange and starts yelling at _me_ about how stupid I look carrying something so tiny and _crying_ about it when there are people who are holding an entire bowling ball. And I hate that. I hate feeling like I’m pathetic. So I just hold it and I just hope the next day it feels lighter. And sometimes, it does. You know?”

“And you know what my secret is? For holding that orange?” She asked him frantically.

“No I do not. Please tell me.” He responded and Jules wanted to hug him just for listening to her for this long. 

“I don't see it.” She said. Causing Abdulrahman to furrow his brows in a mixture of both confusion and intrigue. “I look up and make sure that Stupid Dumb Orange isn’t entering my eyesight, Rayman. Which is actually very great —out of sight, out of mind— you know? Until I see my Mom. God– It’s like.. It’s like someone replaced that orange with a grapefruit but seeing that I wasn’t visibly limping, concluded that I was still functioning properly —Like a normal human usually would. So they decide to replace that stupid grapefruit with a watermelon. And every conversation with her, the weight just keeps getting heavier. And heavier, and heavier until I’m too fucking scared to look down and see what I’m holding.” 

She looked at her hands, as though she couldn’t recognise her own body. “I don’t want to look down and find out that _I’m_ the one that’s holding the bowling ball, Rayman. I don’t want other people and look at me and be relieved that they’re _not me_. I don’t want to be scared. But I can’t stop being scared.”

He nodded. Waited for her to finish, and once she gave a relieved smile, he smiled back.

“Me? I reach America twenty years ago.” He responded. She liked the way he pronounced certain words, like America. _Ahm-ree-kah._ “You think my family was happy? My mama? She cry, she cry alot. My sister, she cry too.” He gently swiped his index finger down his eyes to symbolise.

“They say.” He continued. “‘Abdulrahman! America very bad! You cannot go. What will you do there? They will call you a Dog! They will be very bad people to you.’ They yell and yell but nothing change my head. You know why?”

Jules shook her head.

“Because I know my life will be better. Even if it hurts. Even if I do not have money or I live in the street. It is better. Because I made a choice.”

“You went to america? All alone? Weren’t you scared?”

“Of course I was scared! I did not know anyone!” He belted, still holding a calming smile. The cars were slowly starting to move. “Juliet. You must know. You are not alive if you are not afraid.”

“What if people don’t like the choices that you made? What if it makes _them_ afraid?”

“Then you must–”

Suddenly, a white pick-up truck swerved towards them almost crashing into them, a red-faced man poked his head out.

“Go back to your own country and learn how to fucking drive!” The man screamed, throwing his remaining oily fries at them.

Jules found her veins immediately burning, she pushed her head outside the window and yelled back “Hey! Go fuck yourself, asshole! Why don’t _you_ grow a bigger dick?!” and proceeded to flip him off as he drove off.

She sat back down in her seat, fuming. “How the fuck do people think that’s okay?” She found her bottom lip wobbling.

She expected Rayman to be fuming alongside her. Maybe chase down that stupid motherfucker, beat him up and force him to eat his own shitty racist bumper stickers. Instead, she found him staring at her, stifling a smile.

“What’s funny?! You almost got killed.” She shrieked.

He passed her a nearby french fry –which she hesitantly consumed– and he chuckled once again.

“Juliet. You must understand, this is a very normal day for me.”

She sat, her face paled. “You’re kidding.”

“Yes! It is very normal. People only get mad because they can not control things in their life. So they try to their throw anger at me.” He laughed once more, pointing to the greasy crime scene. “This is very normal.”

“How do you even go outside after that?” She frowned, cleaning up the fries on the floor.

“Easy.” His eyes glimmered. “I drop the orange.”

“Ha. Ha” She said sarcastically. “Very funny.”

“No!” He shook his head wildly. “I am very serious. Juliet. You do not have to carry the Orange! Perhaps it is heavy, because it wants to be dropped?” He pondered.

She collected the undropped fries and offered him some with a shaky hand. “I.. I keep thinking one day she will accept me, Rayman. Is that stupid? It feels stupid. It’s stupid.”

“No. Not at all.” He stared ahead chewing, as though it was the most natural request to ask of someone. They had reached Manhattan. 

“I want to be accepted.” She said, determined.

“Juliet!” He suddenly exclaimed. “You can not do that to yourself! You will spend many, many years doing that. And when you finally look” He gestured with his free hand towards the street. “You will see that everyone is happy. But will you be happy?”

She knew he was asking a hypothetical question. Yet she felt that she needed to say it, to finally admit it to herself. “No..” She said softly. “No I won’t.”

They were entering the nauseating familiar streets of Manhattan. She began to give him instructions on where to go.

“I just.. I feel like an alien in my own family, Rayman. Everywhere, actually. And all I’m trying to do is just exist. And it hurts. It hurts that I have to beg to exist. And I’m scared that if I did act.. Like the person I wanted to become.. Instead of making myself small. People will be hurt. You know?”

Abdulrahman began to nod slowly at her –unintentionally– powerful statement, realising that this is the first time in his long life that he had felt safe in his yellow taxi —Or anywhere for that matter. They began to draw closer to her home.

“We have a saying in my country.” He slowed down. She looked at him, intrigued. “ _Al khouf ya’akul al rouh”_

“I’m gonna pretend I understood that.”

He laughed. “It means, ‘Fear eats the soul’.”

Once they reached her mother's home. She looked at Rayman, his missing smile, his crows feet, his disheveled shirt and his heart of gold and gave him a hug.

“Remember that, Juliet.”

“I will.”

***

Rue Bennett hated sitting still. She hated it when Jules would give her mixed signals. She also hated being early to anything. Coincidentally, she is experiencing all three right now.

“Is that Rue Rue Rue Your Boat, I see?!” Charles belted as he entered with donuts, creating an irritating echo throughout the room. 

This must be what Hell is, Rue thought as her name continued to bounce through the walls.

“Soooooo. How was your New Years?” He gave her a Ted Bundy grin. God, just because he's an extroverted white man does not make him a serial killer, Rue.

_Or does it?_

“Oh it was great.” She replied, helping him set up the table with all sorts of diabetic treats.

“Staying hydrated, I see?” He pointed to her water bottle. “Good job, Rue. It’s great that you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Thank you, Charles.” Rue smiled wholeheartedly, then proceeded to take a massive swig of her water bottle filled with Vodka without wincing. “I really do appreciate that.”

They sat exchanging mundane pleasantries as the room began to fill with somber teenagers. She knew the world is not exempt to sporadic changes, but at least she can always rely on the predictable, quiet shuffling of depressed teenagers everywhere she went.

Nate —or in this case— John, was surprisingly early tonight, and Charles managed to cheerfully bring that up. Which left Nate wondering why Charles had such a punchable face tonight. Of course, that was everyday. But tonight, in particular? Very tempting.

“Alright!” He clapped loudly, once again leaving an elongated echo. “Can you guys believe it?! This is our first meeting of the year! Give yourselves a clap! Come on!”

Unenthusiastic clapping commenced as he looked around to everyone in encouragement.

“That.. Was.. Powerful.” He sniffed.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ Rue thought.

“I have a surprise for you all.”

 _Fuck sakes,_ Nate thought.

“I want you all..” He walked around the table, passing everyone a piece of paper and a black marker. “To write down your ages. And nooooo cheating!” He wiggled his index finger side to side.

Once everyone had finished, they looked expectantly at him.

“You’re all done?! Excellent!” He clapped. Again. “Now .. I want you all to stand up and form a line. Oldest to Youngest. Come on!”

Chairs began to scrape as everyone stood up. Rue and John stood first in line. They were bestowed the depressing privilege of being the oldest teenage crackheads in the room as they stood next to each other, watching everyone shuffle around confusingly.

“This is how executions start.” John gazed forward, jaw clenched.

Rue looked at him and grinned. “You think this is how the dehumanization process begins? That he’s just gonna start calling us both ‘18’ from now on?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him. I always found Charles to be a raging sadist in disguise.”

“Holy shit, you too?”

“Are you serious?” Now it was his turn to grin at her. “The man used to shoot people for a living at some point.”

“Christ, don’t say it so loudly, he might hear us.”

“Oh I’m good. I’ll just hide behind your massive hair.” He looked at her overflowing curls.

“You’re like 8ft tall.” Which was slightly true. He was undeniably tall, towering over everyone. “Not much you can hide behind.”

Charles finally stood facing all these teenagers holding shaky numbered papers with a simpered smile.

“The New Year is about new beginnings.. It’s about changes..” He announced, orchestrating every dramatic pause. “It’s about creating a new ‘You’.. A New You’s Resolution, as I would say. And it’s time.. It’s time to _KILL_ your past self!”

They both looked forward, stifling childish grins as Charles held up a gun finger.

“Now.. What better way to birth a ‘New You’ than some good ‘ol community service?” He kept his plastered smiles as both John and Rue’s grins faded.

“Yes! And I don’t want _any of you_ making excuses, because I’ve already called your parent’s ahead of time and they’ve all consented! Isn’t that great?”

 _Fuck sakes_ , They both thought.

Charles began to section everyone’s involuntary work based on their age and preference.

Thirteen to fifteen? Dog Shelter.

Fifteen to seventeen? Theater production.

Eighteen? Well, about that ..

He eagerly pulled both of them aside. “I have a very Special community service for my two favourite adults!” He paused dramatically. “There’s a family-owned restaurant nearby that I’m sure you’re both very familiar with called The Arabian Pot. Does that ring a bell?”

Rue nodded slowly, it was located at the edge of town and held a blindingly bright logo of cartoon claypot.

“I just moved here. So I’m not really sure.” ‘John’ smoothly bluffed.

“That's fine, John! What was I saying?” He paused to recollect. “Oh! Yes! I’ve spoken with the owner, and he.. Has graciously decided to give you two the most amazing proposition you could hear.” He took a deep breath, grinning ear to ear. “A _paid_ half-time job! Isn’t that great?! You can help a family and reign in some paper greens!” He stared expectantly at them. “Slice bread to make some bread, am I right?”

Rue and John stared at him blankly.

“Anyways! I’ve told the owner about your situation.” He grew somber. “And he was more than happy to help out.”

Fantastic, Rue thought. What better way to help out a couple of vulnerable kids than by exploiting them?

“Your first shift starts tomorrow. I’ll text you both the details.” He said proudly. “Welcome to adulthood, Rue and John. Thank you for finally joining us.”

Tears welled up on Charles’ eyes as he stepped closer towards John.

 _Shit._ Nate thought. _I’m gonna have to let him hug me, aren’t I?_

They awkwardly embraced as Nate politely patted Charles’ head leaving Rue to cough in a poor attempt of masking her laughter.

Once Charles showed him a final act of mercy and let go of him, he then turned towards Rue with an expectant smile. “Bring it in, Rue Your Boat.”

She let him hug her and peeked her head over his shoulder to watch an amused John mouth to her “Rue Your Boat?”, to which she discretely flipped him off for before Charles finally let go of her and walked away to praise the others.

“On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you think this is gonna go?”

Rue responded by handing him her water bottle.

***

Kylie Washington pressed her hand onto her cheek in boredom as she scrolled through her phone. Across the dining table, Jules sat silently as she studied her. Her stepsister was a dierent sort of small than when she was at her age—the neat and tidy sort, no elbows or feet jutting out, everything in proportion. Prim and precise.

Their house was every upper-middle class family’s dream. It held the stereotypical white picket fence. Inside the open garage, two shiny SUVs welcomed you as you entered through the unlocked door. It was safe. It was clean. It was nothing like the one bedroom apartment in Queens Jules grew up in.

“So.. M–” He paused. “Jules! So Jules, how’s school treating you?” Pete said.

Peter ‘Pete’ Washington. Doctor. Father to Kylie. Faithful husband to the gregarious Tracy. Hondurian-American. He came from a long line of strong men and women. Men and women who have travelled long and poisonous journeys to get to see their children grow up without tasting their pain. So how does he repay them? Simple. By voting for "Maybe it says he's a Muslim" Donald "Nobody builds walls better than me" Trump and by cringing at the sight of any Spanish spoken around him. The epitome of denial manifesting in the form of a grotesque man with unnaturally white teeth.

“It’s great. Loads of assignments though, so that’s kind of a bummer.” She replied politely

“Any boyfriends we should be worried about?” His mouth twisted into a smile.

“I’m not sure how that’ll work.” Tracy intervened, emerging from the kitchen carrying casserole. 

Tracy sat down next to Pete. Who sat down an empty seat away from Kylie. Leaving the table to look as though they were having a depressing intervention for Jules.

“Kylie.. We’ve discussed phones during dinner.” Tracy said, using a soft and patient tone. A tone she has never once used with Jules.

“How’s that Ronald girl?”

“Rue?”

“Oh! Yes! How is she?” 

“I don’t really wanna talk about her.” Her mother’s face stiffened at her honest statement as she slowly transformed it into a mannequin smile. “How’s your father then?” 

“Oh. Uh– He’s good. Got promoted, actually.”

“Well that’s good! Hopefully he’ll buy you a bigger bag.” She pointed to her mini backpack as she laughed at her own joke. 

Once everyone had filled their plates, Jules was ready to dig in until she found them all holding hands in brief prayer. She studied her casserole when she suddenly felt a pit resting on her stomach.

“This casserole has meat.” She said, her expression dulled.

“Yes it does!” Tracy brightened.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian?” Her voice isn’t soft or patient. “For gods sake, Mason. I let you eat grass that entire week you came over. I’m not gonna accommodate you tonight.”

“You’re absolutely right, Mom. I’m sorry.”

Is what Jules would’ve said an hour and one existential cab ride ago.

“My name..” Jules said instead. Slowly. “Is Juliet.”

Her mother’s face soften, becoming stiffly aware that she had a new family watching her.  
“I’m sorry. It’s just.. It’s been so difficult adjusting to all of this.”

“It’s been nearly five years.” She replied, even slower. “If you’re gonna lie to me, atleast stop lying to yourself.”

Tracy’s pupils flared. “Excuse me?”

“Just admit it.” Jules winced internally at her mother’s burning glare. “The only reason you won’t accept me isn’t because it’s ‘hard’. It’s because you don’t care enough to try.”

“I don’t care enough?” She squinted at her. “I let you spend winter-break with us, after all the _shit_ you put me through. And I let you step into my house dressed like _that._ ” She gestured to Jules’ outfit. “In what world am I not trying–”

“Dressed like what?” Tears shone in Jules’ eyes as her mother pressed her mouth closed. “Dressed like what?” She repeated.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No.” Jules shook her head softly. “No, I don’t.”

Her mother paused. “I’m not gonna entertain-”

“Say it.” She croaked.

“What is the matter with you tonight?!”

“I wanna hear you _fucking_ say it.”

All that could be heard was the droning of the air conditioner and the sound of her rapidly beating heart as she watched her mother scrunch up her face, and draw her lips back into a snarl.

“Dressed like a _fucking tranny_ . _”_

Jules wished this was the moment where she finally flips her mother off and throws her shitty casserole at her dumb, stupid transphobic fucking face. Or maybe the part where she scoffs and keeps the argument going, so that maybe, just maybe she could figure out if there was something else painfully hidden inside their relationship. Or the part where she screamed and screamed until she felt her voice fight to scrape through her throat. But there was no use. She knew she wasn’t built like that. She never got to push as hard as she could and there was no use pretending to be someone that she’s not. Instead, Jules’ shoulders slacked as she slowly picked up her small backpack and ran out. She ran, ran, and ran away from her mother and her shiny new home and her shiny new kid and her shitty new heart.

She found that the farther she went, the less her shoulders felt heavy. So she took a train, and then another train. And another one after that. Till she felt the bright city lights metestisizing through every crumb and grain of her body till it left her upright. 

She wondered if life was to continue to be like this –a series of crawling from one trauma and then limping onto a different one. Where you couldn’t patch up a vulnerability without exposing it to another threat. That sometimes you needed to rip open a scab so that an easier one could form on the soft flesh of your body.

She finally stopped next to a bodega and smiled. Like, really, really smiled. Because somehow, she knew she was going to be okay. Maybe not now. But eventually. She’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello. not to be cocky but this might be my favourite chapter that i've written so far. i hope you enjoyed it. and i hope it turned that orange turned into a lemon, atleast. eventually, there will come a day where we'll drop it. i look forward to that. thank you for reading :-)


	5. greek fucking tragedy

_ January _

Jules Vaughn was avoiding Rue. 

It didn’t take a fucking genius to know that thirteen unread messages meant that someone was politely stepping away from your existence.

The last time they had properly spoken was Sunday, and that’s when Jules came over, enveloped her insides and left her in a heaving mess yearning for more. Which, Jules gladly did not provide.

Sure, they spoke in school. But things  _ felt _ different. She’d laugh at her jokes but when Rue would turn away from her wrinkling eyelids for a second, she would look back and find a sudden frown formed upon her face, deep in thought. Jules also kept her face glued to her phone, and when Rue would finally catch her attention, she would tear her cheerful eyes away from the screen and suddenly they’d dull over. She hated it. She hated that something obviously changed and she couldn’t tell what it exactly was, and whether or not she had played a part in it. But most of all, she hated how she couldn’t confront her over it.

She wanted to rush over to her place  — they didn’t even have to speak or anything. She just wanted to know if she was alive, if she was okay. But she couldn't. Her birthgiver kept her on strict surveillance; she needed Jules' voice, on speakerphone in front of her mother, confirming that yes, Rue Bennett is indeed coming over and absolutely not doing drugs. And the idea of confronting Jules in her home with her mother by her side was absolutely horrifying, because, well.. How fucking embarassing would it be if it turns out that she actually  _ was _ avoiding her? 

And you know what? Who gives a shit? She sure didn’t. Jules can fuck off to wherever the hell she is and she can enjoy her time. She already felt like a burden as it is, she didn’t need another heavier weight on her chest. Heavy. Weight. Chest. What if she was kidnapped and thrown under the sea, with no way to swim her way back up because a bunch of mafia thugs taped concrete to her chest. How do you even  _ tape _ concrete to someone? How the fuck would she know? She’s not in a mafia, she’s sure they have their own fucking methods. Method. Meth OD’s. Method. Meth head. Did she get addicted to meth? Maybe that’s why she won’t talk to her. She’s ashamed. Duh! Ofcourse! Obviously she’s hesitant about telling her about this shit because what if she ended up joining her and getting addicted, too? That’s pretty thoughtful of her. Jules is kind. Too kind to be her friend. Oh god. What if  _ she _ overdosed and died? What if she had died and ‘Who gives a fuck?’ was the first thing Rue thought about her? That’s fucking low. Even for her. Jesus Christ calm down. She’s probably not dead. But that’s what everyone thinks when someone dies, isn’t it? That they’re probably alive somewhere playing dominos in some stupid park with their phone tuned off. Holy shit, what if she ordered Domino’s and got stabbed by the delivery driver? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck.

_FROM: Rue_ _05:49AM_

_ Hey. You don’t have to reply to anything else. If you want. Please. I need to know if you’re okay. _

  
  


She scrambled under her bed, pulling out a dusty shoebox and rapidly dug for a concealed box of Adderall. She peered inside the nearly empty packer. One pill left. Fuck. 

Her secret stash was meant to last her an extra week. How did she finish it so quickly? She then shrugged at no one in particular, dropped the white pill atop her tongue and left it to sizzle inside her mouth till all that was left was a sickly aftertaste.  _ That’s future ‘Rue’s problem. _

***

Rue was early. A little too early. The owner handed her a thick, red working apron and before he could ask her whether she’d prefer to main the till or take orders, Rue immediately glued herself to the cashier till in such a way that left him bemused.

Mohammed Abbas. Fifty years old, but don’t remind him. Iraqi immigrant. He migrated to America before the Iraqi war had transpired and since then, he held a vehement dislike of any military personnel  — which led Rue to the humble decision that she would sell all her organs just so that she could listen to him and Charles Hindberg have a conversation. He had wrinkles all over his face that seemed to naturally suit him and maintained a cartoonishly large moustache that draped over his upper lip. You would only know if he was speaking if it was moving up and down, which made things inappropriately hilarious. Yet he still held an aura of seriousness; you could joke around with him, but don’t test your luck. He was one of those people that you had a hard time comprehending were your exact age at some point. 

The Arabian Pot held oriental calligraphy plastered all around their walls, with additional satirical comics that held an inside joke only their demographic could know. They also prided themselves on never serving customers with matching plates. Instead, they would serve them using unique and beautifully crafted mosaic plates. The place was strategically cluttered. There wasn’t a single plastic chair or table lying around; it was all cushioned and smooth ebony wood. It was built to make you stay longer. She imagined this is how a Middle Eastern grandmother’s home looked like. It was undeniably homely. Which, now that Rue thought about it, is exactly why diaspora Arabs seemed to flock here more than to any other restaurants in her town.

In the corner of the restaurant, held long, wide and wooden spiral stairs in which a short, plump girl emerged from. The girl walked over to Mohammed and spoke to him in a monotone voice, completely ignoring Rue’s existence. She had freckles dusted all around her bridged nose, a soft round face with protruding cheekbones and thick brows. The sight of her left Rue slightly on edge. She wondered if everyone in this place had a crippling case of Resting ‘Don’t Fuck With Me’ Face.

Mohammed nodded towards Rue and continued speaking with her. The girl then turned around to glare at her, leaving Rue to nervously smile in an effort to disarm her hostility.

“You’re eighteen?” The girl finally said to her. Which left Rue slightly uncomfortable at the fact that they just had a conversation about her, in front of her, without any way of knowing what they said.

“Yeah.. Yeah I am.” Rue said anxiously.

“Cool. I’m turning eighteen.” She replied stiffly.

Mohammed then uttered “Rue, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Kawthar.”

Before Rue could say anything, Kawthar began to speak to him in Arabic and pointed upwards, to which he promptly grumbled and left to go upstairs.

Kawther then turned to Rue. “You can call me Kat.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“So what school do you go to?” Kat interrogated.

“Uhm, Barcade High.” Rue began to count Kat’s freckles. “You?”

“Cool. My little brother wants to go to Highschool there. Rushmore View.”

Rue vaguely recognised that school. In the middle of it’s entrance, it held a massive statue of their founder, where he was kneeling with his hands behind his back whilst looking up.

“Is that the one with the statue of – ”

“Some guy preparing himself to suck dick, right?”

Rue cackled, leading Kat to give her a small smile. “Yes! Dude, someone’s got to change that. It’s a little too graphic.”

“Last year, a couple of seniors raided the school and glued a massive dildo to his mouth.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I joke about that? Anyways, they tried to remove it but those fuckers put super glue all around.” She began to smile widely. “Then the principle tried to pull it out, but couldn't.”

“Oh god.”

“Yup. And let me tell you.” She grew serious. “With money, you can buy anything you want. You can buy a house, a car, or anything for that matter. But watching a terrified grown man jerk off a silicone dick while he’s circled by a mob of policemen and high schoolers? That’s priceless.”

Kat was in the middle of discussing the aftermath while Rue eagerly listened when suddenly, the doors of The Arabian Pot opened to reveal a tall stature.

“You’re late.” Rue smirked. “Not the best first impression, huh?”

“I’ll make it up to the owner.” John walked up to her as he dropped his belongings on a nearby table. “Nice apron.”

“If you think it’s nice then you’re in luck.” She threw him his own red apron. Not gently, either.

He caught it with one hand as he watched the two girls stifle smiles to each other. “What are you two talking about?” He jokingly squinted.

Before Rue could give him a phallic recap, Kat abruptly said “Nothing interesting. Just school stuff.” Flashing her a warning stare to not bring it up, which she confusingly obliged to.

Rue instead sighed dramatically to John. “Maybe if you came earlier, you would’ve known.”

“Ouch. You're just gonna socially isolate me like that?”

“Afraid so.”

***

_FROM: Jules_ _9:05AM_

_ heyyy!! my phone died and i just saw all your messages. don’t worry im fine!!  _

_FROM: Rue_ _9:05AM_

_ I’m glad. I might swing by to your place in a bit. _

_FROM: Rue_ _9:08AM_

_ If that’s cool with you. _

_FROM: Jules_ _9:08AM_

_ lol aboooooout that… im staying the weekend at a friends place _

_ in new york _

_FROM: Rue_ _9:08AM_

_ What? Since when? _

_FROM: Jules_ _9:12AM_

_ since friday? lol _

_FROM: Jules_ _9:12AM_

_ i gotta go!! i’ll see you at school :-) _

“You alright?” 

Rue looked up, expecting him to be looking at her. Instead, he was grinning at his phone. She ignored him, thinking he wasn't talking to her.

“You've been knocking on that table for a while now.” He continued.

She looked down to find her hands had curled into a fist, hovering over the wooden table that held the cash register. “Oh.”

***

Their first shift together was surprisingly busy, leaving them to spend it with no time to interact with each other aside from Rue handing him receipts and John passing her the bill.

By the end of their shift it was afternoon; the restaurant was ghost-quiet while they sat opposite each other as they ate Kebab sandwiches.

“What school do you go to?” Rue repeated Kat’s question back to him.

He looked up in the midst of his sandwich and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nearby.”

“That’s totally not vague and ominous.” She gave a small laugh. “Seriously though, which school?”

Rue stared expectantly at him.

“Homeschooled.” He finally spat out.

Rue saw him visibly stiffen and decided to not intrude any further.

“So, how was your Christmas?” She asked instead, through bites.

“It’s January 8th, Rue.”

She rolled her eyes as she wiped tahini from her mouth.“And time is a concept, what else is new?”

He grinned at her. “It was alright. Got severely drunk. A little too drunk, and my older brother came to visit us from college.” He grimaced. “So I just spent it driving around. But I did find this cool bar – ” He abruptly stopped, growing wearily suspicious of her as though she had tortured this information out of him.

She looked at him as though coaxing him to continue, but when he hadn’t, she gulped her sandwich and changed the topic once more. “You just moved here, right? It must feel pretty weird, doesn’t it?”

He looked at her absent-mindedly, then turned to study his phone before shrugging.

She began to feel the consecutive stings of rejection of everyone these past weeks finally pricking her and leaving a burning sensation onto each corner of her face.

“What you’re doing right now is rude.” She snapped. 

This statement caused him to calmly lock his phone, set it down and glare directly at her. “Really?”

She drew her brows together. “Yes, really. I’m sitting here trying to make conversation with you and you’re acting like I’m some burden.”

He gave an empty laugh. “So you ignoring me this entire shift is your attempt at ‘making conversation’ with me, now is it?”

“What?”  _ Shit. _

It was true. Nate Jacobs had been attempting to talk to Rue Bennett; even trying to crack some lighthearted jokes, but in return Rue gave him stony silence. Which wasn’t her fault at all. It was, however, the fault of

  * _Adderall. Increases work productivity, which is great. It’s also great when your stress reliever is repetitive tasks (counting). It’s even better when your assigned job is to count money, recount it, and then count it some more till you find yourself redoing it a hundred and fifteen times. It’s fucking good. Its ability to maintain consistent conversation with your coworker/support-group buddy, however? Not that good._



“Forget it,” he scrunched up his face in irritation as he threw away his sandwich wrapper. “You’re too drugged out to continue this conversation anyways.”

“Excuse me?” Now it was her turn to get mad. “I’m not  _ on _ anything.”

He looked at her and laughed as though this was the funniest thing he’d heard her say. “You’re not fooling me, baby.”

Rue twitched. Alot. It was the first thing Nate noticed about her. Sure, she kept a surprisingly calm and mellow face; but when you looked below to her vibrating body, even Helen Keller could tell that she was out of it. He didn’t care. It wasn’t his business, anyways. He was just shocked that none of the adults in her life had figured out her thinly veiled lie already. Then again, authority figures had the distinguishable trait of letting the obvious pass right through their fucking noses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said through gritted teeth. “But don’t go around saying shit that isn’t fucking true.”

“You can’t bullshit another addict. So don’t bother.” He said nonchalantly as he pulled out his phone.

She then quickly snatched his phone and put it down on the table between them. 

“Rue Bennett!” He said in mock horror. “Where are your manners?!”

“I’m not done talking, John.”

“Yeah? Well I am.” 

“All of this because I didn’t  _ talk _ to you during a shift? Do you hear yourself?”

He suddenly looked at her in disbelief. “That’s not what this is about. At all.”

Rue wasn’t sure how they managed to suddenly get to this point, but she wasn’t backing down. “Then what is this about? Is it because I didn’t give you the precious attention you deserve?”

“What the fuck?” He barked. “You think I give a shit about what you think?”

“That’s the issue, isn’t it?” She scoffed. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that you don’t give a shit. You show up late, barely talk to Charles, you don’t even bother to get to know Mohammed – ”

“Who the hell is Mohammed?”

“That’s my point. I know you think you’re above all of this. Poor little rich kid decides to get addicted to coke and now he drives his shiny new car to the filthy part of town as punishment.” She took off her apron. “What a Greek fucking tragedy.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” He replied as he pulled his card and clocked out.

She scoffed again as she got up to leave. “I just tried to, didn’t I?”

He suddenly walked over to her in three steps, slamming the door shut as she was about to walk out. “You think just because you talk to a bunch of people, it makes you superior? You’re still fucking lying to them.” He growled. “And if you did care so much about them  — like you say you do — why don’t you tell them?” He bowed his head and leaned in closer. “Hm? Why don’t you tell them?”

She didn’t even have to defend her lie to him anymore. It was falling apart, and he knew it.

“Maybe ‘cause it actually takes effort to change your life.” He answered for her. “Maybe it’s because you’re just not cut out for this, yeah? Ever thought about that? ”

She looked directly into his dark eyes and she began to open her mouth to respond when he suddenly pulled his head away, standing upright with his hands still placed on the exit.

“It doesn’t matter who I’m talking to or not talking to. What matters is that I’m actually trying to stay clean, Rue.” He clenched his jaw as he looked down on her. “I’m not just sitting around wasting my Friday’s pretending that I am.” He pulled open the door before finally glaring back at her. “Can you say the same?” leaving her with no time to respond back as he marched off into his car and left.


	6. people like you

_ January _

Rue hated John. She fucking hated him.

After their Saturday shift, she had spent the following hours memorising all that had happened. Bit by bit. She memorised when he would clear his throat, when she would scoff and when he fucking started all of this. And each time she remincised, she found another reason to grow angry all over again. 

By Sunday, she had maintained a permanent scowl that left her mother puzzled as she dropped her off, thereby passing the anxious torch off to Dr Yang, who –surprisingly– was hesitant to bring up anything remotely upsetting throughout their entire session precisely because of her uncharacteristic mood. Rue sat in the Happy Bean and fantasied about punching John in his stupid face while her mom worringly picked her up. She would then get home, shower and reenact their argument once again, this time she’d rearrange it so that it was  _ her _ that ended up walking out with the final word instead of him.

Monday, she couldn’t even feign excitement at Jules’ return, which pissed her off. She nodded along as Jules raved about her cool friend’s place, the cool nightclubs and the cool ‘cute’ boys and Rue wished she could feel a pang of sadness, but instead all she felt was an aggressive hole in her stomach invading throughout her entire body. Because she had another shift with John today. 

“Dude. Are you okay?” Jules tapped her shoulder, suddenly causing Rue to jump and remember she was sitting in a shitty cafeteria, eating cold pizza and diabetic chocolate.

“Uhm. I’m good. Sorry” She mumbled back. 

She frowned and laughed, “You’ve got to stop apologising, dude.” She said as she popped a Malteaser in her mouth. “Wanna come over later?”

“I- Uh. I can’t.” She stammered, quickly realising how awful that sounded. “I’m sorry, I’m not avoiding you or anything like that, I just gotta go to this stupid shift later.” She needlessly explained.

Jules paused mid-crunch. “Shift? You’re fucking working?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck?!” Jules smacked her shoulder. “You dumb bitch! Why didn’t you tell me? I leave for three days and suddenly you’re a working woman?”

“What can I say?” Rue attempted to joke. “I’m.. I’m working, I guess.”

She wasn’t in the mood to explain to Jules  _ how _ she exactly got the job, because that would entail explaining that she’s in a support group. And that would eventually lead to explaining  _ what _ happened during her Christmas Break Drug Bender, which is what forced her to that stupid fucking group to begin with, then she’d have to explain who the fuck Charles is, what the fuck is inside a Kebab sandwich, and why that home schooled asshole still managed to get on her last nerve without him physically existing in front of her.

Instead, she told her she wanted a change in her life. That it was the next logical step after staying clean for nearly four months and Jules wholeheartedly bought it as she made a mental note. 

  * _Rue Bennett’s list of lies that she MUST, under **NO CIRCUMSTANCES** , DISOBEY:_


  * You are currently four months clean to your best friend.


  * You are also, a hundred percent, completely, and absolutely fine with said best friend's love life. (especially when it does not involve you)



She then proceeded to continue babbling about ‘this cool guy’ she’s been talking to with a beaming smile. Which pissed her off even more.

***

Nate and Rue spent the next week in stony silence, choosing only to communicate only when it is extremely vital. Which, was never. 

And on Friday, Charles pulled them both aside and brightly asked how things are ‘Donkey Kong coming along?!’ with their community service, they both silently agreed to fake a smile, and tell him how great it’s been.

“See?!” He yelled excitedly, “I just  _ knew _ you two would work well together!”

Maybe these past few days, everyone seemed to be on an organised mission to piss Rue Bennett off. Or maybe it was because she was nearly two days pill-free. The longest she’s gone since December.

  
  


***

When her mother dropped her off at work, she parked the car and tossed her money.

“What’s this for?” Rue wasn’t going to reject money, but she also wasn’t going to be gullible enough to accept it.

“It’s cab money.” Her mom chirped.

“You’re not picking me up?”

“No..” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m not”

“Are you giving me up for adoption?”

“Huh? No Rue, damn.”

They paused staring at each other till her mother broke into a massive smile.

“Guess who’s going on a date?” She smirked.

Rue raised herself upright. “You’re kidding.”

“What? You don’t think ya Mama got it going on?” She then proceeded to comically look a distraught Rue up and down. “Please.”

She looked at Rue, realising she wasn’t joking back, she was melted onto her seat. “I should’ve chosen a different time to tell you this,” her mom looked at the time. 6PM. “Shit. You gonna be late if I keep holding you in here.”

Rue uttered with a blank stare, “you’re going on a date.”

Her mother calmly gave her an encouraging shoulder squeeze. “I have to, baby.”

“You’re going.. to date other people.”

Her mom sighed at her blanched face, “it’s been five years, baby. I think it’s time.”

“Yeah?” She slowly dragged her face towards her. “I didn’t notice.”

“Well, I did.” She then pecked her cheek, “you know what else I noticed?”

Rue hummed a ‘what?’ in response.

“You’ve been clean for a while now, too.”

She tried to suppress her threatening tears, which her mother mistook for pride.

“Things are changing. I mean,” she gave a small laugh, “look at you. A month!” She squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

_ That makes one of us. _

_ *** _

  * _Rue Bennett’s (extenuating) list of lies that she MUST, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES, DISOBEY:_


  * You are currently one month clean to your mother


  * You also, absolutely, most definitely, have your shit together.



Rue Bennett stormed into The Arabian Pot with a look of determination as she dashed into her locker room and put on her apron. She clocked in and nodded a curt greeting to Mohammed as she stepped onto the cashier.

“You look nice.”

Rue jerked up in surprise, in effect dropping a hefty wad of cash. Picking it up with a series of curses, she looked up to find John with his head slightly lifted from his arms folded as an impromptu pillow, stifling a smirk. 

Rue quickly looked at him while mouthing numbers, and scoffed.

She never knew when counting became her habit, she never could quite pinpoint it. What began as a silly distraction, slowly became her God. And she loved every minute of it. The truth was that there were so many things in life that unknowingly held a mathematical pattern; if we looked hard enough. For instance, if the electromagnetic force were weakened by a mere 4%, then the Sun would immediately explode as its hydrogen fused into so-called diprotons, an otherwise nonexistent kind of neutron-free helium. If protons were 0.2% heavier, they’d decay into neutrons unable to hold on to electrons, so there would be no atoms. Our universe is inherently mathematical. Numbers granted you predictability. It handed you safety. Which is something that was rarely bestowed onto her by humans without a price.

“You know,” He stood up straighter, folding his arms as he observed her. “You don’t have to keep counting cash every two minutes. It’s not gonna magically change the quantity.”

She ignored him, continuing.

“Is that your thing?”

_ Three hundred and eighty-seven. Twenty cents. _

“You also knock on wood, too. It was annoying at first, but it’s kinda comforting.”

_ Three hundred and ninety-four. Thirty-six cents. _

“I get it, though.”

_ Three hundred and … ninety-four. _

“Seems a bit boring. That’s just me, though.”

_ Three hundred and ninety-four.. Three hundred and ninety-four.. _

“Then again, I’m not one to talk about boring hobbies.”

She eyed him suspiciously. It was almost baffling how they had spent weeks ignoring each other's presence yet here he was –suddenly making idle conversation, as though nothing had happened. And she hated him for that.

***

When their shift was over, Rue quickly threw her apron into her locker and slipped on her beanie onto her curly hair. She clocked out her hours and hurried outside into the cold January air, wincing as it viciously chilled her cheeks. She began to light a cigarette as she ignored the repeated calling of her name.

“Rue!” John called out as he calmly walked besides her, she began to walk faster. “You’re pretty short. Even when you’re practically running, it’s painfully slow.”

“What do you want?”

“Where’s your Mom?”

This caused her to stop in her tracks, dangling a cigarette as her free hand clutched to her freezing body. “Christ, are you undercover Child Support or something?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re a  _ little _ dramatic?”

She finally looked at him properly. He had formed new dark rings under his hazel eyes, his lips held splotches of red from excessive biting, this all somehow left his freckles more vibrant.

“You look like shit,” she replied coldly.

“Always the charmer, Bennett.” He rolled his eyes, “look, do you want a lift home?” He asked.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“How’re you getting home, then?”

“Cab.”

He squinted, craned his neck forward and looked around dramatically. “I don’t see any taxis, do you?”

He was right, that little bitch. “I said I’m fine.” 

“It’s 10PM, and its -2 degrees. Don’t be stupid.” He walked away as she danced on the balls of her feet before expectantly following him.

“Don’t call me stupid.” She grumbled

“I won’t call you stupid.” He mimically grumbled back.

He unlocked his Range Rover as Rue stubbed her cigarette and quickly shuffled onto the passenger seat, sighing in contentment at its warmth. Her eyes registered his car until it finally landed upon the open glove box infront of her seat, stuffed with condoms and a questionable pink bra.

He watched her before realising, causing him to quickly snap the compartment shut, offering her a sheepish smile.

“Pink’s not your colour.” She said stiffly.

He frowned. “I’ll have you know, it suits my eyes.”

“Just drive, John.”

She placed her address on his GPS as he exited the car park, leaving Rue to enjoy the rarity of a smooth car ride, instead of her mother’s rattling death mobile that should have been written off by now. Her contentment was quickly diminished once she began to glare at the car roof suspiciously, she took a deep breath before finally asking, “what do you want?”

“This is the second time you’ve asked me that.” He replied, creating a scoff from Rue. “I want us to be alright with each other, atleast.”

“Why?”

He furrowed his brows, “What do you mean?”

“I mean..” She picked at her cuticles. “What’s the point?”

“Well,” he looked around. “We’re gonna be stuck with each other for a while. We might as well make it enjoyable.”

She looked at him. “Enjoyable? Is that what you call any of this? Enjoyable?”

“I thought you enjoyed talking to Mohammed and Charles?” He inquired sarcastically.

Rue grew hot in embarrassment at the mention of their argument. “That’s not what I said.”

“Relax.” He quickly darted his eyes back to her. “You’ve got a real stick up your ass, you know that?”

She gaped at him in shock. “Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you would,” he smirked

Now, if you put Rue on gunpoint and asked her why she said this next sentence, she would tell you to pull the trigger, because she didn’t fucking know either.

“I have a girlfriend.” She spat out angrily. “So don’t flatter yourself.”

He began to laugh until he saw that she was fuming. He looked at her with a raised brow, “I wasn’t serious, Rue. Calm down.”

But Rue wasn’t okay. She was angry. Angry at him, at Jules, her Mom; At everyone.

“You know what?!” She suddenly screamed. “Not everything is a joke!”

“I’m just trying to be civil.” He interrupted.

“Oh?” She said instead, tapping her head in realisation. “So, that day was your attempt at being civil?!”

He began to drive faster, pushing over the speed limit, all that could be heard was the roaring engine through the silent neighbourhood.

“Has anybody ever told you that you hold grudges for a  _ little _ too long?”

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re a dick?”

He gave an empty laugh. “Yeah, they have,” zooming through the lazy streets. “Teenage girls all share the same fucking vocabulary, huh?”

“Maybe it’s within reason, John.” She spat back as he cringed at the usage of his fake name, like she knew him. Like she ever could.

“Why do you even care about what I said? I’m just a spoiled rich kid, right?” He spat back.

“Because!” She spluttered, growing hot and finding it hard to believe she was freezing a couple minutes ago. “I- What you fucking said was.. It was–”

“It was..” He trailed, “all true?”

“...”

“Well, was it?” He pressed coldly.

“What’s your point?”

He looked at her in irritated exasperation, “don’t act dumb.”

She sighed heavily, before finally turning towards him. “Yes it was. And?”

“So why are you upset? Everything I said was right.”

“That doesn’t excuse being a smug asshole about it.” She said evenly.

“You needed someone to get you out of your fucking bubble and remind you that your actions have consequences.” He finally defended himself, “It’s called a reality check.”

“It’s called being needlessly cruel.” She responded softly as she recognised the familiar streets to her home with a pit in her stomach.

She hated feeling like this, she wished she had the willful energy to truly hate him, but she couldn’t stomach herself if she did so. Because, she knew in her statement, laid a truth that she didn’t want to admit; she was being needlessly cruel, too.

She never liked being awful. Sure, she’d lash out sometimes, but every time she did, she wanted to magically swallow back her venomous words and press ‘restart’.

Everywhere she regularly entered was practically a warzone; constantly reminding her of who she was, the people she'd lost and what she was pretending to be okay with. She didn’t know how she could stop those battlefields from inherently ensuing; but she did know that she didn’t want to create another space of hostility, especially when she had a choice not to.

She continued, “some weird things are happening in my life, with my mom and..” she softly spat out, “and I think I’m just taking it out on you.”

He kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, “I understand.” He replied stiffly.

“Yeah, I knew you would,” she gave a small comforting laugh. “I think you’ve had your fair share of family issues.”

His brows puckered as he kept a neutral gaze towards the neighbourhood. “What–”

“I mean you just randomly moved here.” She said suddenly. “And you said you’re home schooled.” she blabbered mindlessly as she caressed the expensive leather seats, emitting a confused frown from him as she nonchalantly put the pieces together. “Did you overdose? Reputation? Family couldn’t take it anymore?”

He found his jaw had clenched, leaving only a small space for him to respond back. “I don’t want to talk about this”

They sat in uncomfortable, defeated silence. He began to slowly drive through the familiar houses until he stopped in front of her home.

Rue unbuckled her belt and found that she had the perfect opportunity, the fantasy she’d been thinking about all weekend; where she’d deliver a crushing final sentence that would leave him cowering the way she did. 

“Get out.” He said darkly.

But instead, she found a white-knuckled hand clutching the wheel with a glowing red face glaring ahead trying to keep it all together. And with that, she knowingly nodded, calmly exited, and watched his car drive farther and farther away.

  
  


***

Wednesday’s shift was quiet. The normally filled restaurant was somewhat deserted, mostly because no one in their right mind was going to a restaurant in the afternoon in the middle of the week. Instead, their delivery driver and cooks took a handful of today’s action while Rue daydreamed as Nate sat behind the counter, studying.

He wasn’t initiating conversation once again –much to Rue’s adjacent surprise– she had assumed the last time they had seen each other, they had cleared the air and were supposed to be ‘civil’ with each other. Instead, he had earphones plugged in, blasting at an ungodly loud volume. 

But music wasn’t the only thing playing in his head. Driving back home, nodding curtly to his mother as she waited for his father to get back from his ‘late shift’. When he woke up. Whilst he saw Maddy. While he was practicing, and when he was being berated by his coach for ‘slacking off’ today. He kept hearing her fucking voice.

_ Did you overdose? Reputation? Family couldn’t take it anymore? _

She had managed to unintentionally create a dent of truth in his secret life. Which was his fault, really. Nate underestimated her ability to notice. He miscalculated. His first mistake was trying to befriend her; Second, was choosing to mend Saturday’s incident, instead of watching her fume silently. Because of that, he paid the price. Because he was a Fucking Moron, as his father would proudly say.

He felt a slight nudge on his shoulder –thinking it was a mistake– he continued writing.

He felt another nudge. This time, he ripped off his earphones.

“What?” He snapped

Rue put her arm up in defense, “I come bearing bountiful fruits.”

He raised his brows at her as though saying ‘So?’ as he began to lift his headphones to his ear.

She passed him her water bottle. “Have some.” 

“I’m not thirsty.” He began to lift his headphones to his ear.

“It’s not water,” she grinned.

This statement caused him to calmly place his headphones flat on the table as he glared ahead. “You cannot be stupid enough..” He paused. “To bring alcohol to your workplace . ”

“What? Like it’s hard?” She took a swig.

He stared at her in awe as he realised he had never met a more impulsive, careless person in his life.

“You really don’t give a shit about anything, do you?”

She paused, mid-swig. “What?”

Before he could place his headphones back on, his phone began to ring.

“Hello.” He snapped.

_ “Where the FUCK are you?! I’ve been literally texting you nonstop. Fuck _ – _ Nate. I need you here. RIGHT NOW.” _

He sprang up to his feet, toppling his books onto the floor. “What’s wrong? Is it your dad?”

_ “It’s fucking EVERYTHING! T-Theyre fighting and I- Just. FUCK!”  _ She yelled out.  _ “WHERE ARE YOU?” _

“Baby, I’m–”

_ “You’re NOT home. I fuckin- fucking drove over there,”  _ she wailed,  _ “and I can’t even get a hold of you and they’re screaming and I-I fucking need you right now,” _

“Where are you?” He belted, as though she transferred her panic onto him. “Mads. Baby, Listen to me– Take a deep breath. It’s okay.  _ It’s okay.  _ Mads this is important to me, are you outside your house right now.”

Rue felt as though she was an unpaid actor watching a catastrophic movie scene. She didn’t what the fuck was going on with him and that girl, but she found herself grateful that she wasn’t in their position.

He began to grab his own hair as he repeatedly tried to calm her down in order to tell him ‘Where the fuck’ she is right now and if she was away from ‘them’.

Once he hung up, Rue peered anxiously at him. He began to dart upstairs before hesitating, then quickly dashing towards his locker room as he snatched his car keys.

“I have to go.”

“Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Could you cover for me? Tonight?” He pleaded.

She had all the right to ask him why on earth he was going berate her work ethics when he was doing this, or why he thought it was okay to snap at her and then ask for a favour later on, but one look at his face, lips pressed tight and drawn down at the corners, frantic eyes, cheeks reddening, made the words stick in her throat and she found herself nodding instead.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully as he snatched her ‘water bottle’ and quickly kissed her cheek.

“W- Hey!” She yelled out.

“You need to cut that shit out anyways,” he yelled out as he placed a hand on his door handle and sped off.

Rue felt as though under any moment, Ashton Kutcher was bound to pop up from under the restaurant’s oriental rug and tell her she’s been ‘Prank’d’. What the fuck just happened?

***

Mohammed wasn’t happy. At all. One look at his furry face and you could tell he was regretting the day he decided to play ‘house’ with a bunch of careless kids. Luckily, Kat happily took John’s place, and made a better conversationalist. Even though she takes way too many breaks. Don’t tell her she said that, though.

The restaurant remained deserted. Rue looked around and quickly shuffled for her water bottle before remembering who had taken it.

She cursed to herself and whatever level of Hell she was occupying right now as she fumbled instead for her cigarettes. She signalled to the cook that she was taking a break as he grunted in response. 

She walked towards the alleyway, only to be surprised by Kat as she stomped on the floor, emitting small sparks of fire.

Rue then waved her cigarette pack like a sword as Kat cursed vigorously.

“You couldn’t warn me?” Kat hissed as she picked up her half-cigarette.

She stifled a smile as she watched her fumble nervously. “I’ll warn you next time.”

“Hey, quick question,” Kat asked as Rue stood besides her, “why does it look like a literary tornado over there.”

She was referring to the mountains of textbooks where some had fallen in the midst of John’s phone call, whilst others were barely clinging onto the marble counter.

“Blame that white kid, not me.”

Kat snorted, “both of you are a shitshow, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” She said defensively.

“I couldn’t hear what you two were saying from upstairs, but it sounded like a  _ pretty _ heated argument.” causing Rue to groan in memory. “Who fights on the first day of work, by the way?”

“I dont know!” She cried, “God. He’s ruining the easiest money I’ll ever make in my fucking lifetime.”

“At least you’re making money!” Kat jokingly cried back as she waved her cigarette, “what I’m doing is practically forced labour!”

Kat’s eyes slowly flickered fear as she suddenly remembered, “Please don’t tell my parents,” she panicked.

Rue didn’t know what was going on today or why everyone seemed to be begging her to show mercy, but she replied, “I won’t. Don’t worry.” She watched as Kat exhaled smoke and seemed relieved.

Rue continued, “I don’t think your parents would care, anyways.”

Kat laughed bitterly, “you don’t know how immigrant parents are.”

“I mean,” she shuffled as she took another puff, “I don't –you’re right. But yours seem pretty cool.”

Kat scoffed.

“I’m serious. It takes a lot of courage to do the things that they’ve done and worked for. I’m sure they stumbled and fucked up along the way, too.” Rue replied, “give them some props.”

“It’s all bullshit.”

“What? This entire situation?” Rue began to nod in agreement to her own statement, passing her a pack. “Parents suck.”

“That’s not what this is about,” she said slowly, lighting another cigarette. “It’s about the fact that this ‘courage’ they had was all for nothing.”

“I don’t think so.” Rue frowned in confusion, “they fled a war-torn country and gave you and your brother a better life than you would’ve had over there. You don’t think that’s cool?”

“I think it’s stupid.”

“I think it’s called freedom.”

Kat looked at her as though she was a toddler that would never understand or comprehend what she was saying. “That’s what everyone says about America, right? Land of the free!” She waved her arms dramatically. “And my parents actually bought that bullshit pickup line that people like you keep repeating.They came here like everybody else, for freedom. But my dad works sixty hours a week to keep up a shitty restaurant that gets vandalized by a bunch of racists, like, every two minutes. And my mom ran up loans into five digits to get an online degree only to get rejected everywhere because her last name is ‘Osman’. They won't shut up about how great America is, but they're going to die in debt doing things they never wanted to do.”

Rue gazed at her in empathy. “I-I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t expect shit like this ever crosses your mind.” She spat back, before her gaze quickly softened, “it's okay, Rue.”

“No it’s not.”

“No..” She sighed. “No, it’s not. But that’s just the way things work around here, right?” She then quietly stubbed out her cigarette.

And as much as she’d like to prove her wrong, she couldn’t.


	7. for the love of god, stop lying

_ January _

There comes a time in a young woman’s life, where reality steals her away from the orchestrated fantasy she had worked so hard to build. Where the menacing face of order glares onto you; forcing you to confront your crimes, and you’re not sure if you’re quite ready to face the horrifying truth. Nonetheless you must not only confront it, but acknowledge the fact that although there may be cold, famine, disease, natural and man-made disasters currently infesting our rotten planet; There is nothing worse on Earth than your dealer not answering your texts.

Okay. She might be exaggerating.

Rue wanted to kill John. Her dealer had been ‘dry’ on supplies for a while now, and her ‘water’ bottle was meant to be her reliable holy grail. Thanks to that Range Rover driving dickhead; his little impromptu alcohol swipe cost her nearly four days of actual sobriety. No alcohol. No pills.

Of course, she couldn’t ask someone to buy some for her, because guess what? Her dealer did that for her. And she couldn’t buy any herself because America hates its law-abiding citizens. Who the fuck puts the legal drinking age at twenty-one? What are we, Mormons?

First, it started off so simple.

_FROM: Rue_ _04:36AM_

_ Bro. I got cash. If you got some Trammy, I’ll take some _

Then it grew desperate.

_FROM: Rue_ _05:05AM_

_ Bro _

_FROM: Rue_ _06:20AM_

_ pls _

Now, imagine fifty-seven painfully similar text messages. She felt sick to her stomach typing out those messages, trust me. Pining for her dealer’s ‘I’m coming over’ text, Rue kept her face permanently glued to her phone. She felt she was being  _ very  _ generous; even gave him exactly three days to respond. You know what? Who does he think he is? She’s playing too nice. He needs to be told that she means business. He needs to be reminded that she’s paying  _ his _ rent, that dumbass, pre-teen looking, acne-ridden, smegma infested, piece of shit.

_FROM: Rue_ _08:56AM_

_ Cut the cameras. Deadass. _

_FROM: Rue_ _08:56AM_

_ On god, when I see you I’m beating the shit out of you.  _

_FROM: Rue_ _09:45AM_

_ I’ll smack the acne out of you, dumb bitch. _

_FROM: Rue_ _10:37AM_

_ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. _

_FROM: Rue_ _12:23PM_

_ Why you ignoring me, bro? _

_FROM: Rue_ _13:54PM_

_ You’re annoying anyways. _

_FROM: Rue_ _14:35PM_

_ Your breath always smelt like hot milk. It was nasty _

_FROM: Rue_ _14:35PM_

_ As fuck. _

_FROM: Rue_ _15:04PM_

_ I’m kidding! It’s ‘Prank Your Dealer Day’ today! Isn’t that crazy?! They make days for anything, huh? _

_FROM: Rue_ _15:33PM_

_ You wish I was pranking you. You’re already a fucking joke. _

  
  


_FROM: Rue_ _15:37PM_

_ The clown academy called! You got accepted! _

_FROM: Rue_ _15:40PM_

_ Goofy bitch. _

_FROM: Rue_ _17:05PM_

_ I’m kidding. _

_FROM: Rue_ _17:25PM_

_ Lol. _

_FROM: Rue_ _17:59PM_

_ :-/ _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:08PM_

_ You got some trammy? _

She let out a frustrated whine as she slopped onto her bed. Why must God be so cruel? Is this what dying feels like? She found invisible hives nestling onto her skin that she couldn’t get rid of. Sweat pouring in places she didn’t know she could sweat in. Did you know, your kneecaps can sweat? She sure as fuck didn’t. Until now.

Maybe this could be a new change for her. Withdrawals are the hardest part about quitting. Once you get through that hellish cycle; then it’s only up from there. And this is good for her. Yeah, It’s good. It’s like what Charles said. It’s time to kill your old self. A new you’s resolution.

Her body shot up from her bed. How could she be so stupid?! New Years Eve. Of course! She knew that stupid party was good for something.

_ “If you wanna try some other shit, let me know.” _

_ “How do I know where to find you?” _

_ “Girl, chill. You gone find me.” _

She wanted to kiss her fried brain for remembering that moment. Holy shit, this is great. But before she began to throw a celebration, she realised she had absolutely no fucking clue what his name was.

_ Frank? Feliz Navidas? Federation?  _

Fuck. She was back to square one.

Unless..

_FROM: Rue_ _18:10_

_ Heyyyyyyy :-) _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:10_

_ hey boo  _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:11_

_ that’s so crazy, was just abt to text you _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:11_

_ Yeah. Damn, that’s crazy. _

_ Anyways you know that party we went to? New Years? _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:13PM_

_ ….yeah whats up? _

Stupid, stupid. Stupid, Rue thought. You went straight to the topic too fast, moron. Quick, think of something.

_FROM: Rue_ _18:13_

_ There was like.. This really weird guy. He like told me if I wanted drugs he’ll give me some. So crazy! _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:14_

_ wtf. are u serious? _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:14_

_ YES! Omg my GOD am I right?! It was so weird. He has like blue eyes, a beard, kinda talks like a reincarnated Tupac, and like a really weird name ugh I’m trying to remember it. _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:14_

_ Ugh.. It’s like… Fernando, something? _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:15_

_ i think i know who ur talking about _

Rue practically felt herself on the brink of orgasm. Come on, baby.

_FROM: Jules_ _18:15_

_ like cassie buys shit from him.  _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:15_

_ He’s a dealer? _

Oh, fuck yes.

_FROM: Jules_ _18:16_

_ yeah :-/ rue, he’s bad business, stay away from him. _

No.. No! She can feel her future serotonin slipping away. Fuck, fuck. Fuck.

_FROM: Rue_ _18:16_

_ Oh my god, yeah. Definitely. _

She began to pace manically through her room, opting to light a cigarette to destress. Jules is shutting her down, she needs to think of a smooth way to get his name.

_FROM: Rue_ _18:16_

_ Could you like.. Tell me his full name so that if I see him somewhere I can just stay away from him. Or like, maybe his facebook? Just so that I can block him? Thank you _

Smooth, Rue.

_FROM: Jules_ _18:16_

**_Typing .._ **

Her heart began to pound, she was so close. God, if you do Rue Bennett this one solid; She swears to you, she’ll go to your stupid church. She’ll eat those weird, white, and flavourless biscuits your minions keep handing out. Shit, she’ll even jerk off the pope if it means this’ll work out.

Rue pulled out another cigarette and began to smoke. Don’t ask her how much she’s been smoking these past days. Alright, fine. Three packs. A day.

_FROM: Jules_ _18:20_

_ hey sorry, my dad needed me to help him with this stupid word puzzle _

Come on, come on. God, she's so close; she can practically taste it.

  
  


_FROM: Jules_ _18:20_

_ i think his names fezco lol. _

Rue jumped throughout her room as she hooted in celebration, she quickly opened Facebook and began to type his name frantically. She prayed he was stupid enough to have his ‘dealer name’ on a public platform known for its strict surviellence; and Lo and behold, he was. Grinning menacingly, she pressed onto his profile, and began to type until her phone suddenly started to ring. It was Jules.

She looked around as though her room was bugged. “Uhm, hey?”

”Hey!” She chirped,“look, I need a huge favour from you.”

“Now?”

“Yes!” She screamed excitedly

Rue frowned, “Jules, can’t you just text me this?”

Jules paused, Rue could hear her shuffling. “Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Rue, began to dart nervously around her room, “forget it, what’s up?”

“Weeeeell…” She said, “I need you to cover for me.” 

Rue frowned, “cover for you?”

“You know,” she elongated each word, “like, I need you to  _ dooo something _ for me”

“What is it?”

“It’s just.. It’s like..”

Rue was growing frustrated and weirdly anxious at these turn of events. “Jules, just spit it out.”

“Okay! Okay! Sheesh! I just need to go to New York real quick,” she blabbled,    
“and.. Basically, like– I was just– I was wondering if you could just..” she paused nervously before suddenly speaking in a single breath, “if you could lie to my Dad and tell him we’re hanging out at Happy Bean?”

It was as though a lightbulb flicked atop Rue’s head. Holy shit. This is her getaway. She can go to that FedEx dude’s place and top up her supplies, and nobody would know! She felt as though she was floating on a cloud, as though the universe conspired everything in her favour tonight.

“Yeah, of course!” She said, a little too excitedly before puckering her brow, “Wait, why do you need to go to New York, anyways?”

_ And most importantly, why didn’t you think of taking me with you? _

“You’re gonna hate me.”

She kept her smile. “Nothing you can ever do would make me hate you.” 

“No, it’s like really stupid, Rue.”

“I like stupid. Tell me.”

“Well, if you  _ need _ to know, I’m..” She gave a small giggle, “I’m seeing The Guy today.” Rue’s face dulled whilst Jules’ brightened as she added an emphasis on the fact that this isn’t just any other guy. But, it was The Guy.

And Rue knew about The Guy. She had to endure nearly a month of her babbling on about how _ cool  _ and  _ fucking lovely  _ he was. They met during her last visit, and eventually began chatting online. Both managed to neglect the fact that it was the most preferred outlet for serial killers nowadays. But who gives a shit? They liked the same books, he had a husky voice, he cared about women’s rights –whatever that fuck that meant– and most importantly –they liked eachother.

Jules sensed her apprehension. “Look, if you don’t wanna do this, I totally understand, Rue. It’s fine.”

Rue found herself momentarily caught in a crossfire. She could reject her proposal, thereby cause Jules to hate her guts and force herself to another day of sobriety, or..

“Of course, I’ll do it.”

She could get sufficiently high, and instead hate her own fucking guts. The answer to that was simple.

***

_FROM: Rue_ _18:30_

_ Hey. Fez? I met you on New Years. _

_FROM: Fezco_ _18:32_

_ From the light within, a presence emerges. Greetings and salutations. _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:32_

_ Cool. You got some * _ **_REDACTED_ ** _ * ? _

_FROM: Fezco_ _18:32_

_ You’ve come to the right temple. _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:33_

_ This is an app _

_FROM: Fezco_ _18:33_

_ All is the same. Come through, I’ll hook you up. _

***

And that’s how Rue found herself two train stops away from her hometown, counting anxiously through her knocks.

“Bro, who in the fuck-” He viciously opened his door, leaving Rue’s hand hovering, still curled up onto a fist. “Who the fuck teach you to knock like that? The damn FBI?”

“I’m sorry” she squeaked back

“Man…” He kissed his teeth before smirking, “It’s chill, bro. Come on in.”

She smiled gratefully as her eyes took into alarm at his home.

He had houseplants. A Lot of them. It looked as though he intended to create a makeshift jungle; soft light bulbs hung throughout his home, and his walls carried a warm yellow hue which were filled with a plethora of painted naked bodies. Some fat, some toned, some outright skinny.

“Did you make these?” She gazed into the drawings as he entered the kitchen.

“Huh?” He poked his head out to see, “oh them shits? Yeah..”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He poked his head back to the kitchen before yelling out “Lavender or Raspberry?”

“What?”

He poked his head back out again, “you want lavender kombucha or raspberry kombucha?”

she scrunched up her face, “I’m good.”

“You sure? That shit is good for your digestive system.”

“Yeah well, my insides are already rotting.”

“Don’t say that shit. Your body is a temple.”

“You’re literally selling me drugs.”

“Yeah?” He said as though failing to see the issue. “Still don’t mean you gotta fuck your body up some more.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure you good?”

She grinned as he wiggled his brows in remembrance of the party. 

“Fine. I’ll take your stupid Kombucha.”

“That’s more like it. Now, raspberry or lavender?”

“For fuck sakes.” She yelled out.

“Aight. Damn, chill. I’ll make it a surprise.”

Soon enough, Rue made herself home. Nestled onto an insanely comfortable couch, she ignited a friendship with a furry companion.

Fez entered his living room in bemusement as he watched Rue baby-talk his ginger cat, “don’t coddle that bitch, he pushing thirty in human years.”

She gave a mock shocked expression, “doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve love!”

“What he need to do,” he passed her the Surprise Kombucha, “is pay some motherfucking rent at this point.”

Rue grimaced as she drank his fermented tea, “Eugh. What is this?”

“Lavender”

“Tastes like ass.”

“Damnnnn.” He darled. “At Least pretend you like it, shit.”

She quickly snatched his Raspberry flavour, and after a lengthy sip, she hummed in approval. He smirked as he took her Lavender and they sat in comfortable silence stroking his cat as it began to purr in pleasure.

“What’s his name?”

“Theresa.”

She looked at him with questioning brows before he continued, “thought he was a bitch for a minute.”

“Then what?”

“Then, one day; I saw his fat ass balls dangling and was like hol’ up.”

She began to cackle, he soon began to laugh with her, “that shit fucked me up! I tried callin’ him somethin’ manly. But nah.” he shook his head, “won’t respond to anything that ain’t Theresa.”

“I respect his ability to commit.”

“You real articulate. I was gone say that he just being a Bitch.”

“Is that your favourite word?”

“Guess so. Yeah.”

They looked at each other before they both suddenly burst out screaming, “BITCH!” Causing poor Theresa to quickly dart out of the living room and onto another room.

“Aight.” He clapped his hand, “let’s get down to business. Whatchu need?”

With that, Rue’s mouth began to water.

***

Thirty minutes with a nearly empty whiskey bottle, Rue was feeling fucking sublime. After soon purchasing herself enough supplies to last her two more weeks, Fez and her sat crossed-leg on the floor facing each other, they began to play False or Drink as she waited for Jules’ text.

“I’ve been arrested,” Fez slurred.

“You cannot be serious,” Rue rolled her eyes “drink, bitch.”

The rules of the game were simple. You proclaim a statement, and the other player must determine if it’s false, or if you should drink because they think it’s true. If, however, you chose the wrong answer..

“Nah. I never been. You drink, bitch.”

Rue groaned as she downed another shot, “I pee in the shower.”

“Duh. Drink.”

Her eyes widened, “No I don’t!”

“You forreal?” He scoffed jokingly. “Everybody pees in the shower, bro.”

“That’s just you!”

“You lying.”

“I’m not. Now drink and think about your crimes.”

He drank his shot as though it were water.

“Dirty bitch.” she mumbled under her breath.

“You ain’t shit. My house meant to be a safe space. Anyways, my turn.” He painfully cleared his throat, “I never been in love.”

“Woah. That’s a bit loaded, don’t you think?”

He shrugged sloppily, “I guess.”

She hiccuped, “Drink.”

“Yeah, you right.” He groaned as he downed another shot,

“Hey! I’m actually pretty good at this game.”

“False.”

She widened her eyes, “that’s not what my statement was going to be!”

“Oh shit, my bad.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she teased as she dramatically cleared her throat. “Alright, here it goes; I have a will to live.”

“Come on, man.”

She cackled once again, “I’m just playing the game!”

“You don’t gotta joke about that shit.”

“I’m not.” She smiled, but it hadn’t reached her eyes, “well? False or drink.”

“Drink.”

“Oops!” She exclaimed a little too loudly, “you’re wrong! Guess you gotta drink, huh?”

He kept his shot glass empty as he stared sadly at her, “Rue, you wanna talk about it?”

Rue scoffed and waved her limp hand. “What’s the point?” She moved to his coffee table, crouched on his couch and began to excitedly crush her first line.

She’s been waiting all day for this moment. The art of addiction was intriguing. Rue likened it to that of a fertile, fruit tree. 

When desire arrives; the opportunity to grasp onto it is as ripe as a fruit, when you think about it. To truly quit requires patience, and an intuitive sense of desperation; you have to feel the moment of turn, just as when desire made an appearance –resembling a flushing peach– the instant to quit has appeared. It is the moment where quitting is ripe as it hangs on a vine. And if you neglect it's blushing beauty; the cord eventually cracks, leaving the peach to tumble onto the ground, festering with flies and rot.

But here’s the secret; the peach never falls. So you’re left in awe at it’s beauty as your stomach rumbles and your mouth grows watery. Till you forget who you were before you had been hypnotised, all you know is that it feels as though you’ve spent your whole life creating an inherent fantasy of its juiciness that leaves you in a weary state as bystanders look on in pity.

“You good?”

“I swear to god, I’ll shoot you if you ask that again.”

Tapping thin lines onto his marble table with a blade, they were suddenly interrupted by soft knocking from outside his door.

He wobbled himself upright, heavily marching towards the door. “See? This how you knock. Like a normal person.”

“Bitch.”

Rue eyed her phone carefully as Fez kept his conversation through a slit of the door. Before she knew it, she grasped it.

_FROM: Rue_ _19:12_

_ Hey.,. a,r e you okay? _

Okay, she might be a little bit more drunk than she thought.

_FROM: Jules_ _18:15_

_ i’m good!! just need a couple more hours lol _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:15_

_ are you still at the happy bean? _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:16_

_ u,yes for sure… sooooo bore,d. coffee yay.  _

Will the lies ever cease to stop, Rue?

_FROM: Jules_ _18:16_

_ oh my god ur almost texting like me. are u drunk without me? ;) _

Oh my god she sent a winky face. Oh my god, she’s so fucking precious.

_FROM: Rue_ _18:17_

_ I misssssss youuu. ;)) Ditch . . the stupdi boy. pls. _

_FROM: Jules_ _18:17_

_ lol. ill see u later, alright? _

_FROM: Rue_ _18:18_

_ alrighyt _

“Hey, weren’t you at that New years thing?”

Rue looked up to find a gorgeous brown haired girl that wore a painfully tight dress, in front of her, “uh..” her mouth went dry, “yeah, I think I was.”

She gave a small laugh, “I don’t think we were like.. Introduced to each other properly. I’m Maddy.”

“Rue.” She cringed in remembrance, “Cassie’s friend, yeah?”

Fez gratefully intervened, “you from around here, Rue? You know hella people.”

“Nah.. Nah.” Rue waved her razor blade haphazardly, “I’m from Chelsfield. Like two towns away from you guys. Plus, Cas is my friend’s si-” She corrected herself quickly, “Cassie used to go to my school before she moved here.”

They all stared at each other awkwardly, causing Rue to feel hot in her seat. “What about you guys?” She quickly said, “How do you know each other?”

“This one,” Fez wiggled his finger towards Maddy, “hates the fuck outta me.”

“No the fuck I don’t” Maddy rolled her eyes. “I can’t hate you; you give the best prices.”

“Yeah, I know I do. That’s why I got myself a new customer.” He threw the conversation back to a puzzled Rue as he stepped inside to his room.

They smiled awkwardly at each other before Maddy said, “you look like you’re having fun.”

“Huh?”

Maddy pointed to the table, which carried two straight lines.

“Oh.” Rue laughed nervously, “yeah.”

“What is it?” Maddy questioned.

“It’s just Lyrica. Want some?”

“Fuck yes.”

***

By the time Fez arrived with an ounce of marijuana, he found Maddy and Rue quietly purring back to a pleased Theresa.

“Y’all some fuckin’ crackheads.” He threw his supply onto the table, startling Theresa into refuge. “Fuck you need this much weed for, Maddy?”

“It’ss…” she slurred, caressing Theresa, “my birthdayyyyyy!”

“Oh shiiiiit, happy birthday.” Rue slurred back.

“Thanksss, babygirl. Ohmygod you know what? You should totally comee...”

“Reallyyy?”

“Fuck  _ yessss! _ ” She stood upright. “The both of you. I, like, finally got my annoying ass parents outside the house for the weekend. So it’s gonna be lit.”

And Rue wanted to say no. That she’s currently waiting for the text of approval from Jules to head home –maybe even see her–, and that it could happen any minute. But instead, she said yes. Because for once, she wanted to forget about Jules. At Least for tonight.

***

Rue sat alongside Maddy as she drove –and poorly belted out the newest hit song– while Fez trailed behind them with his car. She couldn’t lie; Maddy was a great conversationalist.

Rue listened to her angrily vent –she never liked to use the word complain– about her boyfriend’s ‘shitty’ racist parents, and how she couldn’t wait till they finally leave this small town and get married in a beautiful place, where nobody knew them.

“You should probably go live somewhere in Los angeles.”

“Right?! That’s what I thought too.” she clicked her tongue, “but he, like has this weird, Dracula vibe so he’d probably like somewhere that’s old, white, and boring.”

“The deadly combinations.”

“Bitch, right?! God, you fucking get me. I like you, Rue.” 

She said it so casually, and so fact-like that it made Rue’s heart almost burst from how great she was feeling. They both looked at each other in the only way you would sincerely like someone whilst on drugs.

“I like you, too.” Rue smiled, “where do you want your wedding to be?”

“Oh my fucking god! Girl, I’ve been thinking –like– a tropical wedding, maybe?”

Rue touched her own frizzy hair as they both looked at eachother and spoke in a drunk chorus.

“Humid.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Fuck, what about like, a vineyard setting?”

Rue didn’t know when she started talking like a regular teenage girl, but she liked it. She liked ‘girl-talk’, and the idea of building up a fantasy that only you and a handful of equally-giddy girls shared. It enthralled her; which is why she brought her own fantasy from Chelsfield right alongside her.

“My girlfriend really likes the city. So I think we’d get married in our apartment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh, and like,” she began to build her own dream of her and Jules, “we wanna have like, an intimate gathering –no italian food– a-and we’d kiss in our New York flat while we watched the sky turn dark.”

“I fucking love that,” Maddy praised, causing Rue to feel all giddy inside, “but why in an apartment?”

“Because..?” Rue slurred as though it was obvious, “It’s gonna be the start of our new life, and I want us to come home every night to that same apartment and remember the love we share.”

“Thats…” Maddy turned drunk-emotional, “so fucking beautiful, Rue.”

“Really?”

“Yes, girl!” She cheered her once more, “I think you’re the first person I’ve told any of these things to that wasn’t a complete fucking asshole about it.”

“Why would I?”

“Hey listen,” she suddenly switched the topic and turned serious as they reached her house. “Do you think this dress is too much?” Rue looked down to her tight, pale pink, sleeveless mini dress.

“No.” Rue shook her head like a dog that's been drenched in water, “it’s actually really beautiful.”

“Awwww.. Do you think he’d like it?”

“ Do  _ you _ like it, Maddy?”

“I.. I mean yeah, I do.”

“Then that’s all that matters, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

***

Once they had found ample parking spot; Rue decided it was a better option to wait outside for Fez rather than to enter the booming party with Maddy in humiliating fashion –And risk another stern confrontation from her dear friends, Lexi and Cassie. Shockingly, she happened to learn her lesson at New Year’s; and this time, Rue quietly decided to avoid any potentially volatile interaction with the two sisters that may ensue.

After a lengthy drunk pep talk, Maddy finally decided to sadly yield and let her enter her birthday party in her own time. 

“I’ll still have a tequila shot ready for you, bitch.” Maddy yelled out as she sauntered inside the party

Once Maddy entered, she was met with a wide range of “Happy Birthday’s” that nearly brought her tears. She struggled to get in a word edgeways, but when she did, she was gushing her thank-yous left right and centre multiple times and babbling excitedly, and it wasn’t after what might have been an hour of excited chattering about getting old that she realised Nate was staring at her with a lustful smirk.

And so she walked up to him, it was as though all the sounds amongst her had muted and the lights had dimmed, leaving only the both of them together. It was her moment –like the ones in the movies, you know?– where she batted her eyes, and he automatically whisked her away from all the noise, landing them onto his bedroom till they felt it was only just them in this world. Only them. The way it should have always been. She looked up at his beautiful, wide eyes as he took a deep breath and whispered:

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

“What?”

Maddy scrunched up her face in confusion as Nate darted menacingly towards a frizzy haired girl downing a shot and before she knew it, viciously pulled her into a photobooth.

“ _ I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY, GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME. _ ” Rue screamed to his face, before her face feigned realisation that it was just him, which caused her face to contort from fear, to confusion and eventually land onto anger.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” He barked.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Rue yelled back. “Jesus Christ, don’t go grabbing random women at parties you fucking neandethral.” 

He gritted his teeth, “how did you get here?” 

“That birthday girl invited me!”

“How the hell do you know my girlfrien– Look, I don’t fucking have time for this shit!” He gripped his hair in frustration before yelling, “you need to leave!”

“I’m not leaving anywhere, John.” Rue barked back. 

That statement caused him to breathe a sigh of relief, his lie was almost collapsing, but he still had time. She still didn’t know what his real name is; Nobody knew he was a drug addict, or in a support group. As of now, his reputation remained pristine and he can fix this. He can fix this.

“Can you fucking move?” Rue panted. “It’s getting stuffy in here.” 

“Rue,” he said slowly, “I need you to leave.”

“Why?”

He punched his thigh in built-up tension as he took a shaky breath, “I just.. Can you please,  _ please  _ promise me you’re going to leave, Rue. It’s important to me that you do that.”

She was taken aback by his desperate voice. He hated begging, yet somehow he always found himself doing precisely just that when it came to Rue Bennett. So, in order to prevent any more damage to his ego, he viciously pulled back the photobooth curtain and walked as he prayed –for once– that Rue would fucking listen to him.

Instead, she bumped into Maddy, who was suspiciously close to the photobooth.

“Babe, you finally came in!” Maddy gave her a warm hug before turning to her masquerading boyfriend, “I guess you already met my new bridesmaid?” She gave Rue a drunk wink –which, was a lengthy blink.

Nate, or in this case John, or maybe it’s Nate this time –or maybe it’s the Fucking Moron– felt sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, she’s just about to leave.” He scowled.

Rue gaped in shock at his forwardness. She knew he disliked her; but not to his degree. It seems, every party she has been to in this shitty town, she was bound to make someone upset. She came to enjoy herself and forget about everything, but instead found herself brimming with rage because of him. Once again. 

Except now, she had the chance to make him feel the same way he’s been making her feel, and she was going to make John’s life a living hell at this birthday party.

“Hey Maddy,” Rue held a devious smirk at a fuming John, “I think i’m ready for that tequila shot.” 

“Seriously? Let’s fucking go, bitch!”

And before he could protest, Maddy stole Rue away.

***

Nate was stuck between a hard place and an even harder place; battling Rue whilst an oblivious Maddy played the middleman. He followed Rue everywhere they went, sometimes purposely maintaining a lengthy and –heated– makeout session with his girlfriend infront of poor Rue whenever she was close to the truth. He strategically hung by the coattails of Maddy’s revealing dress; which she found cute whilst Rue found it revolting.

“Can you give her some space to fucking breath?!” Rue hissed in agitation, causing Maddy to giggle and break away from their kiss.

“Like, she’s literally so right. You’re never this clingy, Nat–” He quickly gave her a kiss.

“It’s your birthday, baby.” He said sweetly, “I want you to feel good.”

Which caused Maddy’s heart to swell up as Rue’s shriveled in disgust.

“So how did you two meet?” Rue said as she poured all three of them another tequila shot as he began to sweat bullets.

“We used to tutor each other,” Maddy replied before taking a shot and grimacing. She then leaned over to Rue before drunk whispering, “he’s literally the worst in Spanish by the way.”

“Really?” Rue was intrigued, John always kept his life private. “Is this before or after he moved–”

“How did you meet  _ your _ girlfriend, Rue?” He interrupted with a shiny smile. “Where is she, by 

the way? I’ve been wanting to meet her.”

“Who the fuck told you I had a girlfriend?” Rue snapped, leaving him bewildered at her hostility.

He puckered his brows in genuine confusion. “Uh? You did?”

She visibly cringed at the memory of her aggressive ‘confession’ when he had dropped her off home. She made a mental note.

  * _For the love of God, stop lying._



“The New York lovers!” Maddy obliviously intervened in glee, “I bet you two are like… Ellen and Portia. So fucking cute.”

Fuck, Rue thought. She hadn't expected her inebriated babbling about her fake girlfriend would come trailing back after her. That's the thing with lies; they forced you to build a stronger, more deceitful foundation. Or they crumble.

“I mean, I’m black so I don’t think so. Maybe like.. A walmart version of them.” She bluffed to an oblivious Maddy and a suspicious John.

“Oh my god, I love Walmart!” Maddy said in excitement, “listen, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, none of you leave!” She waved a threatening finger at the both of them as she promptly went upstairs, leaving their smiles to quickly melt into scowls.

“Why are you here?” He squinted.

“My dealer wouldn’t answer my texts so I found one here.”

He looked at her blankly before taking a deep breath, “you went to a town where you didn’t know anyone so you can get drugs? I literally can’t tell if you’re brain dead sometimes.”

“You stole my vodka,” Rue hissed. “Of course I had to go out and find something else.”

“What? So you went into a stranger’s house so you can get fucked up? Are you begging to get killed?”

“You stole my vodka,” Rue drunkenly repeated. 

“You’re unbelievable.” He hissed back, “there was like –what?– a tiny amount of it left, anyways.”

“It was  _ MY  _ tiny bit to drink, you limp noodle looking bitch.”

He looked at her and attempted to stifle a grin, “did you just call me a limp noodle?”

“I’m going outside.” She sighed angrily.

“Then I’m going outside, too.”

“Actually, I think I’ll stay here.”

“Oh, what a crazy coincidence. I was thinking of staying here, too.”

“You’re irritating.” Rue childishly said.

“Don’t call me irritating.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I won’t call you irritating.” She mockingly narrowed her eyes –exaggerating his scowl alongside it– and ‘quickly’ sprinted onto the backyard.

He soon followed suit, “I thought we’ve already established that you’re a slow runner.”

“Shut up.” She grumbled, “shouldn’t you be with your girlfriend? Leave me alone.”

“Or what? You gonna pepper spray me?”

“Go away.”

“I’m good. I like seeing you annoyed.”

“I think we’ve already established that.”

“Just wanted to make sure that you knew.”

She glared at him and wholeheartedly wondered if it was considered ethical to kill a sweet girl’s boyfriend during her birthday party. 

“Yo, Rue!” somebody called, and in her peripheral vision she spotted Fez, lounging in a lawn chair with his drink raised in greeting, she immediately slouched next to him on an empty seat, leaving John to awkwardly sit alongside them.

“How beautifully the stars collide and ask how we feel. What are the stars asking you, Rue?” Fez said, his eyes glazed over.

“You’re high as fuck, aren’t you?”

“Not enough,” Fez gave a raspy laugh, “you?”

Rue scowled at ‘John’ quickly before saying, “I was.”

“Damnnn,” he responded back with dilated pupils, “wanna change that?”

“No. She doesn’t.” He quickly interrupted.

“Oh for fuck sakes,” she gave him a dirty look. “Is it physically impossible for you to get out of my business?”

“Rue, I’m not..” He gritted his teeth, “going to let you take some shitty pills in front of me.”

“Then turn around!” She snapped, “I don’t give a shit!”

“Yo. You need to chill Na–”

“Shut the fuck up, Fez!” He barked, “this doesn’t fucking concern you.”

Rue watched them both and felt her anger dissipate and quickly morph into an urge to cry. She considered making up an excuse, saying she had hefty schoolwork to do in the morning, but something inside her had snapped. It was unfair of John to act so despicably towards her all the time, to take such an instant disliking to her when Rue hadn’t done anything wrong, and for once Rue was determined not to be a pushover, or end the night in tears once again.

“I’m going home,” she announced. “I hope you’re happy.”

He had been awaiting this statement since he had watched her arrive. He had expected himself to be overcome with joy at the prospect of his secret life remaining intact. But instead, watching Rue hunched up and destroyed, all he felt was  _ awful _ .

“Rue.” He softly said, “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to–”

“Stop lying. You’ve been practically forcing me to leave the minute I got here.” She roughly wiped away hot tears, “I mean –holy shit– I thought you hated me, but I didn’t think it was to this extent.”

“No! Rue! Fuck.” He felt his chest bubbling, “that’s not what this is about–

“I just thought we could actually be friends, you know? Civil? That’s what you said, didn’t you?”

It seemed as though nobody wanted her around for long –not even Jules– and she finally realised the idiotic truth that everyone else had already known; nobody liked her.

The worst part of it all is that she wasn’t acting like this on  _ purpose _ . She wouldn’t willingly go out of her way to be difficult, and a burden. She was just being herself; and somehow, that always landed her in trouble till she found herself unable to apologise because she didn’t even know what was the issue that caused it. 

Fez intervened softly, “Rue, don’t leave, bro.”

“Clearly, John doesn’t want me here,” she wiped away hot tears as Nate’s face went blank. “I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

“Hold up. Who the fuck is John?”

Nate’s face went blank as a line formed atop Rue’s brows. Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Okay, he can still fix this. He can still fix thi–

_ “WHAT THE FUCK?” _

Maddy drunkenly stomped towards them. 

“Why’d you leave?!” She whined dramatically to a poker-faced Nate. “Do you realise how embarassing it looked when Bianca asked me where you were and I stood there like a fucking dumbass pointing to the kitchen? I told you to wait for me! I was literally searching everywhere for you.”

To Rue’s credit, she had handled the situation better than he did, coldly muttering, “ I just really needed some fresh air. I’m just heading home now”

Maddy thankfully turned her attention to Rue, “what the fuck, are you serious right now?

“Uhm. I’m just really tired,” Rue responded with a distraught face at her sudden aggression. “Happy birthday, though.”

“You’re leaving?! We’re just about to light up the cake. It’s fucking Vanilla.”

“Ayo, what? I’m coming, I fuck with vanilla.” Fez got up as Nate sat still. “Nate you good, bro?”

Nate, however, stayed as a statue.

“Nate.” Maddy rolled her eyes, “now’s not the time for you to be silent.”

Out of nowhere, a mousy girl walked over to them and –unbeknownst to what is occurring– nudged Maddy, whispering, “I think Tiffany just threw up on your couch.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Maddy groaned, “I’m gonna kill that stupid bitch.”

“I got some Kombucha,” Fez lifted his thermos. “That shit gone have her chill. Lemme help.”

“Nate?” Maddy looked at him in irritation. “Are you not coming?”

But Nate couldn’t respond. The two worlds he had worked so carefully to build and divide were quickly falling apart; crumbling into each other till he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. And it was all because of the girl with the permanent scowl and untamed hair.

Rue scrunched up her face in confusion, she watched Maddy scoff and walk away with Fez back into the party.

“Wait. Why’s everyone calling you Nate?”

Nate finally broke away from his stature position to look at her as realisation slowly entered her face.

Rue was the definition of ‘focus on the bigger picture’, because she almost always focused on the wrong things. 

Watching films with her family as a child, she’d completely miss an essential plot twist because she was too busy gazing at the ticking clocks behind the actors, or counting the brick tiles in a swanky coffee shop scene, or how the main protagonist held exactly forty five white flowers in her red dress as she broke the main love interest’s heart. Once she finally looked away from the mathematical spell, she’d ask; ‘Wait, what’d I miss?’ Which guaranteed a chorus of groans from both her mother and little sister as her father quietly chuckled and rewinded the pivotal scene once more. She was always late to things. The last to get the joke; and it seems she was also last to find out someone’s real name, too

“Rue, I can explain.”

She slowly back away from him in disgust, “I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“I swear I can explain,” he repeated breathily as he followed her.

Once again, Nate was following her and she was sick of being slow to everything in life even when it came to walking. So she ran, ran and ran. Until all she could hear was the rattling of her shaky breath while she gripped a wobbling bottom lip with her teeth as they entered the silent streets, music booming in the background.

“Rue, hold on!”

“Is that why you’re so awful to me all the time?” She violently turned back to him as all the pieces finally clicked, “because of a stupid fake fucking name?!” 

“No! Fuck, I know shouldn’t have lied!” He said loudly as he licked his lips in anxiety, “I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t need your apology–” She stopped mid-sentence, and then barked out a laugh. “Do you seriously think I’m pissed because you  _ lied _ ?”

Nate frowned in confusion as he stood silent, and his reaction caused Rue’s fury to grow hotter.

“You’re fucking delusional,” she scoffed quietly. “It’s not about some stupid lie.” She muttered, “are you forgetting the fact that I know you think you’re above everyone? That you think you’re better than everyone? I wouldn’t put it past you to lie about your fucking name.” She spat out.

“What is this all about then, Rue?” he asked.

“Holy shit, Nate!” Rue suddenly screamed out in frustration, causing an echo and an unfamiliar feeling in both their stomachs as she said his name. “It’s about you ruining my fucking day –as always. It’s about you being needlessly cruel –once again– and it’s about how you don’t even fucking realise it.”

“Listen, please,” he whispered, his body stepping closer to hers. “Rue, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t –”

“You’re selfish.” She interrupted him. She said it in a tone that required no form of convincing otherwise. It’s Maddy’s Birthday. The night is ruined. The air is cold, and Nate is selfish.

“You sit there and pretend to be something that you’re not, and hurt people and toy with their emotions because–” She stuttered quietly, “because I- I don’t fucking know. You just do. And maybe you have everyone else okay with that; but not me, Nate. Not me.”

With that, she walked away. And this time, he wouldn’t follow her.


	8. syrupy sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: (MILD) DETAILS OF ABUSE. 
> 
> I didn't write anything graphic, it has more to do with trauma revolving around an abusive household. Nonetheless, proceed with caution. :-0 !!!

_ January/February _

Maddy Perez loved love.

Her first relationship was in third grade. His name was Kyle. Kyle Woodrow. He had sticky hands, and always bought her grape juice during lunch. Always. Maddy loved him the way you loved soft ice cream and gumdrops. She vandalised her tiny room with a pencil –she wasn’t old enough to start using pens– and she wrote his name all over, in a childish scribble.

In the midst of those years, she had a couple on-and-off middle school romances, stolen kisses behind the ‘scary’ part of the schoolyard, however, those relationships always seemed to end after the bell rings. But it didn’t matter, she loved them all regardless.

Her second ‘real’ relationship? Sixth grade. By then, Maddy had begun to fill out her clothes; some fabrics squeezed in the oddest places, this in effect caused all the boys to notice her a little bit more. That year, she learnt the meaning of ‘giving it up too easy’ and strove to maintain a nonchalant, mildly-disgusted gaze at all times throughout her interactions with boys. Except one. His name was Brian Hernandez. He waited for her after each class –sometimes she would find him in a heaving state, clutching his chest, arriving from the other side of the building that was directly opposite hers. Which, she found cute. Everyday, she would write his name in her older –more mature– bedroom using a black ball point pen; this time, she drew hearts all around. She loved him the way you loved kept promises, clean clothes, and neat handwriting. By then, she had discovered the wonders of flavoured lip gloss and a push up bra.

8th grade was a dream. Somewhere between the line of borderline bullying and infatuation, boys and girls began to crush on eachother. You can now stay out till the streetlights turned bright, how exciting! Phones had become a sign of maturity. This was Maddy’s favourite time, because for once, she felt understood; You couldn’t avoid the stench of romance no matter where you went. John Green was your God; pimples were your Devil. That was when Rakim Gediano came in. He was new to school –fortunately for him, everyone loves fresh meat.

He had an accent, which Maddy loved. Somewhere from a country that ended with -istan. Maddy couldn’t care to remember. All she remembered was that one day, whilst walking her home, he asked her if they could start going ‘steady’. Glitter pens were all the rave back then, so just for him, she saved up her weekly allowance to buy a dashing set of shimmering pens. The girls envied her; but she didn’t care, as far as she was concerned, those pens held only one use for her. Everyday after school, she made sure to write every letter of Rakim’s name in different gel-based colours; and of course, she loved him. The same way you loved shopping, free samples, and the smell of new clothes.

What did all of those boys have in common? They all dumped her.

Every. Single. One.

“I don’t want cooties.”

“I need to focus on my schoolwork.”

“You’re too clingy.”

Throughout all these heartbreaks, Maddy managed to find a consistent best friend, a therapist, a supportive mother and father all bundled up into one simple, beautiful thing; Romantic comedies.

She had watched all the classics, the remakes, and then their musicals. Name a romantic film; and she has probably watched it roughly five times. Their dynamics ingrained in her head. 

She loved it. Of course, as she grew, her taste grew more refined; but the genre remained the same. Watching all these protagonists in their conveniently-large bedrooms struggle with the woes and virtues of love made Maddy feel as though she was sharing their pain. Their beauty was a sight to behold; Their lives immaculate and architected; even whilst ‘embarrassing’ themselves. They were never too much, nor too little to be deserving of love. And for those two hours, Maddy would feel the same too. 

Plus, it helped distract her from her parents.

The same way she would write all her past lovers' names on her wall as though it were a holy practice, Maddy had built herself a concise ritual for her own parents; . 

On the good days; her parents would sit in mutual indifference whilst Maddy laid in her room, gouging on macadamia nuts as she watched newly released films on her laptop.

On ‘Normal’ days; only screaming would vibrate throughout her room. She knew it was a normal night if plates weren’t crashing blindly onto the floor. In those days, she’d watch  _ His Girl Friday _ and laugh whenever it was needed.

When the plates did crash, as a child she would walk over to her empathetic neighbours until the noises subdued; but as she grew older, she resorted to calmly texting her friends how ‘fucking bored’ she was with viciously shaky fingers, and prayed to God somebody would respond and steal her away from them; atleast momentarily. And sometimes, they did.

But when they didn’t, Maddy would calmly insert her ear-plugs, watch  _ Eternal Sunshine of A Spotless Mind _ with subtitles, and perhaps cry herself to sleep afterwards.

Then there were the Bad Days. When it does no use to cover your ears, you could still hear them anyways, trust me –she tried. When the sounds of excessive beatings tore through her body as though she was alongside them, taking each punch from both parties. By then, no amount of syrupy sweet films could nurse her.

Instead, she did as she had always done; she would quietly slip into her closet and pray that she would disappear. She would squeeze her eyes shut and little, by little; parts of her faded. It was always her fingers that were the first to dissipate. Slowly, slowly now. Those arms stutter in existence until finally they too, disappear. This is good. Now, it was the hard part. If she continues to rock herself slowly, her feet soon will follow the rest of her limbs. She hated her chest the most. Always took too long. The rattling, the unexpected gasps, and the phlegm-filled coughs would bring her back to reality and she’d find herself starting all over. 

But sometimes, they worked alongside her. And with every slam of the door and each screech she would hear, her breath would quicken. And as too, the process. Until finally, she disappeared. 

When the sounds eventually subdued, Maddy would find herself again. All flesh, no bones and just trying to feel a little bit more normal again. She sometimes wished she actually  _ did _ disappear. If given the chance, she could gleefully slip into the lives of the dashing women she’d worship on screen. To have all of her problems resolved in under two hours; instead of a lifetime. And for a while, she grew cynical. Vehemently choosing to close her heart for anything that wasn’t fictional.

Until she met Nate.

She heard  _ of _ him, of course. It was hard not to. Men wanted to be him, and girls wanted to be with him. When those girls eventually did, they always ended up a wheezing mascara-stained mess in the locker room as their friends pityingly consolidated them. And he was beautiful. It was true.

He wasn’t the type of guy you would find in a store, with a hard-set stare that made you giggle with your friends as a form of bonding; all your minds collectively clinging onto him with momentary, rapt delight. 

He was the type of guy you thought about long after he was gone. He was the guy where –each time he evasively entered your mind– you would remember another trait. The purple-ish bruises underneath his eyes that made you wonder what or who he lost sleep over. And you found yourself jealous of anyone who has ever known him, because you would’ve liked that privilege, too. Then he made you painfully aware of how you were to never see him in those situations. Anxiety, fear, and lust all bundled and formed a person until you finally found yourself thinking about him too much for it to be considered normal.

Maddy knew he was never going to notice her. Guys like him don’t necessarily go for girls like her. So she stuck to listening as he answered every history question correctly and watching as he embarrassingly received each Spanish pop quiz with a massive zero; which was when she got the idea.

Their ‘study nights’ were the only things she looked forward to all week. She liked how giddy she’d get awaiting the arrival of his car. She also liked how he had unknowingly given her her own personal ‘getting ready’ montage that she’d always seen in the movies, but she especially liked how she finally had an excuse to escape her household. It was a shame however –truly it was– that her household wouldn’t escape her.

Loud noises terrified her. And Nate’s room held a creaky door that would only properly close if you’d lift it quickly, and violently slam it shut.

“I’ve been meaning to fix that for a while now.” He gave a small laugh the first time she came over as she tried to catch her breath once more.

Eventually, she made a system for that, too. She’d come over. Make sure she would shut her eyes, mentally prepare herself for when he’d close it and pretend the inevitable sound was something happy. Fireworks. Applause. Anything happy.

On a drunken Sunday, they had gone to their favourite karaoke bar. Mumbling drunkenly through a Katy Perry song, he finally kissed her. And maybe it was because of the fluorescent lights, her blurry vision or how the cheesy Teenage Dream’s chords began to play, but she felt as though no amount of romantic comedies could amount to this very moment. 

They stumbled drunkenly into his room and as she braced herself for the startling loud bang of the door, instead she found herself shocked when it smoothly clicked shut.

He watched her bemusingly as she frowned and finally said two simple words that solidified everything for her.

“I noticed.”

And in that moment, she realised she loved him.

Yet it was a different type of love from her previous conquerors. He wouldn’t wait for her after class, and he wouldn’t buy her grape juice either. Instead, he’ll call her a bitch if they argued for too long, and he would immediately skip the loud scenes in the films they watched. He would make her cry in the worst ways possible, and he made her heart ache in ways she didn’t know existed, and he would move inside her just the way she liked it afterwards till she forgot; and he would ignore her existence at her own birthday party and chase another girl into the menacing streets while her heart shattered into measly pieces. But most importantly; he would drive over to her house. Regardless of the Bad, Good, or even Normal days; because in his eyes, none of those days were okay.

She loved him the way you loved roller coasters, getting a tattoo, and laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. And she didn’t need to write his name all over her bedroom wall; his name was permanently ingrained in her heart. Whether she liked it or not.


	9. because people coax you to lie. that was the secret.

Rue didn’t go into work the following days, nor did she go in for her next shift on Wednesday either. She couldn’t face seeing Nate; the thought of seeing him made her feel sick and her heart squeeze. She felt bad about missing work, not because of Mohammed —her boss, who arranged covers easily when she’d notify him— but because she was upset she’d have to face her mother’s beaming smile once again as she dangled her keys before every shift and ask,

“Why aren’t you ready?”

Because then, she’d have to tell her,

“I’m too tired today..”

Which will then cause her mother’s smile to slowly deflate, and instead bring on a mixed face of both pity and expectancy. Her mother knew she wouldn’t last longer than a month at Arabian Pot. And for once, Rue didn’t have the energy to prove her wrong.

At lunch, Rue began her first meal of the day with a glistening can of Coke as Jules visibly cringed.

“You’d think with the amount of shit you put in your body, you’d have another one in storage,” she teased.

Rue put on a serious face before proclaiming, “I’ll have you know, somebody once told me to treat my body like it's a temple.”

Jules raised her brows questioningly, “and what temple would let itself be treated like this, bitch?”

“I never said my body was a _pristine_ temple. I liken my body to that decaying Burger King at 46th Street.”

Rue watched her in enamourment as they both laughed, before she asked, “how was the date?”

Jules visibly stiffened her smile before calmly replying in a high-pitched tone, “it was great!”

She furrowed her brows in confusion, her tone softer, “really? Yesterday-”

“It was fine,” Jules interrupted, because if Rue decided to continue, she wasn’t sure if she could take it anymore. “How was therapy?” she promptly switched the topic.

Rue looked at her as she in return, avoided her gaze. “It was alright, I guess.”

“So how are we feeling today, Rianne?” Dr Yang had said monotonously.

Rue expectantly coated her session with a sickly layer of ‘I’m fine.’

Dr Yang began to shuffle through her next patient’s notes and files, keeping a half-hearted attempt of paying attention towards her, “I hear you’re working now. You have my deepest congratulations, Rianne.”

Rue wanted to say; _Seeing as I’m practically forcing myself to get fired any minute now because I would rather eat my own skin than deal with an awkward situation. I deeply appreciate the fucking sentiment, Chloe Yang._

Which is why she shocked herself —and Dr Yang— by suddenly spitting out,

“I have a problem. At work.”

“Oh?” Yang sat up straighter, clicking her pen, and began to clutch her empty notepad, “care to elaborate?”

And if Rue wasn’t so conflicted, she would’ve laughed at how predictable this whole ordeal seemed to be. Truth was, she was having a great deal of problems. It couldn’t be compressed into a simple answer on an irritatingly loud leather couch with a mildly-interested therapist as an audience. So, what was the problem?

That she couldn’t manage to form a stable friendship to save her life?

Or maybe it was the fact that she’s sick of being sick, because everyone else seems to grow sick of her and she only seemed to notice when it was too late.

Or the fact that she has lied to everyone; but couldn’t believe others could do the same.

Or perhaps, the problem was her. All her.

“What do you do..” She trailed, uncomfortably aware of how hot the room is as she tapped methodically onto the couch, “when a person lies to you? And you’re not sure if you could forgive them?” Rue quietly asked, acutely aware of how childish and small she sounded.

Dr. Yang hummed, Rue could practically see the cogs in her brain churning as she eventually placed her fingertips together and said, “you’ve got to ask your own self this question.

She practically bulged her eyes out. It seems it was very much in tune with the universe’s treatment of her that the only time she asked her useless therapist for advice; she’d instead politely ask her to ‘figure it out’ on her own. Before she could belch in disgust as a response, she quietly retorted 

“I’m not really a reliable source when it comes to this, am I?” 

Which was a rhetorical question; both parties know she’d spent the entire summer lying to everyone. Which is exactly what led her to that godforsaken support group. 

However, one party knows that this is the first time she's ever told the truth inside this room. 

Lying was an art if treated delicately. You rarely actively choose to lie. It seduces you. It was a portal into becoming a different person to different people everyday. Sure, it wasn't the cleanest way to change who you were but who gives a shit? Of course she wouldn’t become the person she always wanted to be overnight. It was the simplest answer. No one could! But it doesn’t take much to tell others you’re feeling just a _little bit_ better than the day before. To play the harmonic deceitful stories of your life a _little bit_ better than yesterday and it certainly was easier to be a better person than who you are now. Because people coax you to lie. That was the secret. Everybody wants you to change, almost as much as you do.

It seems, everywhere she went; she was the only person nowadays that could decipher the truth from her lies when it came to her own measly, pathetic life. And nothing is sadder than a party spent all on your own. In the end, Rue found that lying will always make you feel lonely. Therein lies the catch.

“All the more reason to ask your own self,” Dr. Yang gave a small smile before delicately closing her notebook. “When we are wronged, we expect the maximum amount of forgiveness. However, once we wrong others; we expect the maximum amount of forgiveness. Don’t you think that is strange, Rianne?”

She sat in silence as Dr. Yang continued, “Try to shift that narrative. I know you can.”

Thing is, she knew she could. She just didn’t know if she wanted to. She didn’t know a lot of things, actually. Coming in first atop her head was Jules. And why she was acting weird.

In all honesty, Rue didn’t care about Nate and his bullshit tower of lies. Her mind has been permanently glued to Maddy’s party.

Taking a train back to Chelsfield, Rue’s mind was occupied with ways to never ever, ever interact with John- Fuck, _Nate_ ever again. That was gonna take a while to get used to.

It was only when Rue arrived home that evening, having come straight from the train with a bag so heavy it landed on the floor with a crashing thud, that she realised that somebody sniffling incoherently was inside her room. When she switched on her dim lights she knew that she wasn’t okay. Because it was only 10PM and Jules was catastrophically drunk.

Jules was hunched over and quiet, just drank until her bottle contained speckles traces of brown remnants and then stared dazedly inside her room for the rest of the evening. 

Rue tried to coax her into telling her what exactly had occurred, but the grunts of refusal that Jules emitted were Rue’s only indication that perhaps she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Instead, Rue resorted to joking, babbling and keeping up a jolly pretence like she hadn’t noticed that she was completely out of it all along. 

At some point during the night, they eventually both laid alongside each other and watched Adventure Time. 

They watched silently for a while, passing a new bottle of whiskey —that Jules pulled out silently in alarming fashion— between them, and though Jules watched the screen intently, Rue kept fidgeting, squirming about under the covers like a restless child and peeking nervous glances at Jules; only choosing to laugh whenever she chose to. When Rue eventually convinced herself that she _was_ somewhat fine, she eventually began to count the hues of blue in each scene. Checking to see her reaction soon after beginning their 10th episode in a row, Rue found that Jules was staring at her and not the show, her eyes warm and sad. 

“Are you sleepy? Should I turn it off?” She asked her with a calming smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jules softly answered back.

Rue quietly switched off her laptop, and nestled back into bed; She was hesitant to touch her, no matter how badly, oh so badly, she wanted to. As though one wrong move and she would explode, shattering all the glass around them, leaving her to pick up the pieces and rearrange them till she finally figured out where it all went wrong with her.

“I don’t…” Jules started after a while, her voice muffled by the fabric her face was pressed onto. She shifted so that her cheek was pressed against the pillow and her face towards Rue, but she kept her eyes shut, as though peeling them open would cause her to confront that this is all real, and that this was truly the life she was living.

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” she eventually said.

Rue was surprised at her statement, she hadn’t expected it. 

And maybe it was the way she had said it so nonchalantly, or maybe it was the alcohol, and the dim lighting, and her painfully confident voice, but for a second, Rue could swear she felt her own heart cracking.

“I don’t think anyone thinks they're a good person.”

But Jules wasn’t listening; instead, she was incoherently groaning before suddenly she pressed her face onto Rue’s neck, leaving her mouth directly below her jaw and mumbling,

“You’re the only person I need.”

And maybe ‘need’ wasn’t the word that Rue had craved to exit the rosy lips of Jules, but it was enough for her. 

“I’m really sorry,” Rue eventually said.

And maybe that wasn’t the sentence that an inebriated Jules needed from Rue, but it was enough for her, too.

And so, that’s how it continued in the morning; the air amongst them currently thick with tension that they both had no way of diffusing. Words hung above each other with no viable way of knowing what the perfect thing that needed to be said was.

Rue had hoped in the morning —in the midst of battling a hangover— they would talk about what had happened that caused this. She always found that in the peaking shades of daylight —the moments you could barely register what you’re saying— to be the moments in life where you figured out a person the most. When your eyes are caked with weariness and sleepiness; she realised that it is when you are most honest.

But when she awoke that morning she found that she had left.

“What about your co-worker? What’s their name anyways?”

Which in hindsight, is a very understandable question to ask someone. What’s your infuriating coworker’s name?

Unless you’re dealing with a coworker that’s been lying about his identity to you for over a month. She hadn’t spared a single thought about him all day; yet Rue was shocked to find that after her therapy session there was something lying beneath her emotions of annoyance and revulsion; sympathy 

She didn’t know why he was lying to her, or what else he was hiding. All she knew was that watching his petrified face underneath the burning streetlights meant that he was ashamed; a feeling she knew too well.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Rue eventually said and promptly switched to the topic of how the lunch lady had a lipstick stain on her teeth. Again.

***

One thing, however, that Rue Bennett couldn’t talk her way out of was Just Beat It! No amount of measly forced-coughs, or strained voice could convince her mother that she would rather drop dead than to see Nate once again.

In hindsight, she knew her attempts were futile; Their first interaction after Maddy’s birthday would resemble a car crash waiting to happen. Because, eventually she’d have to fucking see him sooner or later. She just hoped it would’ve been later.

Which is how Rue found herself alongside her mother, as she dropped her off with a chirpy smile to offset her stoic face as she stood outside the crumbling building and waved her off.

Rue pulled out a cigarette and began to inhale. However, something in her vision caused her breath to hitch, and the smoke to linger. Because a particularly shiny Range Rover was in the parking lot. And inside it, carried a face she knew too well.

Shocked to find that Nate was early —for once— and darting his eyes menacingly at the door for her arrival. Once he spotted her, his mouth widened slightly; it seemed that he knew this was the only window of opportunity they would have to speak to each other. That little shithead.

Before she had the chance to orchestrate how she was to avoid him; He wasted no time as he slammed his door shut and quickly walked towards her. “We need to talk.”

But they couldn't. Rue saw something strange flicker ahead. It was a shadow, a menacing figure hounding his car. And as she looked on in utmost realisation and horror, she knew she had to tell him. Now.

“Oh my God.” 

Nate quickly turned his body around to view the source of fear only to find nothing. He looked back and found that Rue was gone. An unstubbed cigarette leaving remnants of smoke as her exit.

***

Alright, fine. Rue can admit that the classic ‘Point, Scream, and Dash’ tactic was inherently childish, especially when dealing with confrontation. But hey, it got the job done, right?

She shuffled nervously as she stood under the harsh lighting of the room and began to study the room only for her eyes to land onto a measly kid with oversized glasses slouching on a chair, viciously reading a comic book in the corner of the large table.

“Mind if I join you?” Rue squeaked, shocking the kid and her as she avoided the loud slam of the entrance door.

“Oh dear! Of course.” His nasally voice responded back as Rue made a mental note.

  * **Avoid Nate at all cost**



She sat beside him, as he calmly looked towards her with a mousy smile. “Do you play fortnite?”

“I don’t really play instruments,” she smiled back as he furrowed his brows “I’m your girl if you need someone to butcher ‘Hot Cross Buns’ on the piano, though.”

“It’s a game,” he squeaked back.

“Oh. My bad.”

“No worries, allow me the honour to teach you,” he wiggled his prepubescent brows at her. “Are you free today? My mom’s making spaghetti. I need to shower before you come over though, I didn’t really expect a pretty girl to hit on me today.” He babbled at a grimacing Rue, “I have to get your mom’s number so she can call my mom and since you’re a girl I can’t really leave the door closed so-”

Suddenly creeping up behind them in confidence, Nate snapped his finger. 

“Move.”

With that, the kid quickly and silently shuffled to the farthest corner of the table away from them. He took no notice to her appalled facial expression, taking the now-empty seat and shifted it till he was face-to-face with Rue.

“We need to talk.”

“You did not..” She said slowly, “just kick out my new friend.”

“What? Minecraft kid? Gimme a break.”

“He’s my friend!” Rue hissed angrily, realising her argument is crumbling by his expression, she quickly added, “we were supposed to sit together and he was probably gonna teach me about FightNight”

“He hit on you didn’t he?”

“No.”

“He hit on every single ovary with a pulse in this room and it’s only his second week.”

“Shut up. You had to go and ruin a great friendship before it even started.”

“He’s a heavy breather, too. So unless you willingly want to be around a walking vacuum, you should be thanking me.”

“I should be thanking _you_?”

Nate clenched his jaw, “look. As much as I _adore_ our little conversations, we need to talk.”

But before she could say anything, Charles clapped his big, beautifully timed hands.

“Alright gang! Our first meeting in the glorious month of February, can I get a round of applause?!”

Rue was the first to enthusiastically clap, emitting an impressed look from him.

“Great energy, Rue! Just magnificent!” He chirped before his face fell somber, “and could we have a round of applause for the lives we’ve most likely lost this previous January due to heavy drug use?”

Everyone began to hesitantly clap causing Charles to thankfully say, “that’s enough clapping for today. The energy.. It was beautiful. I wanna start our first February meeting with a little icebreaker.”

“I know you’ve all gotten very well acquainted with each other through your volunteer work.” He sauntered before getting close to a freshly-pimpled fourteen year olds face and loudly whispering, “but I need _more_.”

“Now I know what you’re all wondering..”

_Get to the fucking point_

“Charles?! You old goof! What could you possibly mean by _more_ ? And to that I say.. _more_.”

_Jesus fucking Christ._

***

Charles had everyone place two chairs each facing each other, forming a circle all around. The rules of the ‘game’ resembled a depressing reminance of speed-dating.

He begins by saying a question out loud, and the ‘contestants’ (read: depressed teens who are forced against their will) are to answer the question to each other in under five minutes. Once those minutes are up, a different person takes over the seat. It was meant to be a trust exercise built to ‘strengthen’ the relationship you had with others and ultimately, share each other's stories and realise you aren’t alone. And Rue thought that even if she sat under exam conditions for three weeks with the question _“what’s the most hideous idea you’ve ever heard?”_ she would not be able to conjure up something worse than this stupid game.

“Alright,” Charles clapped before reading off his coloured notes. “Do you believe in a God? Why or why not?”

Rue sat opposite the girl with thick braids named Tiana whose voice always sounded as though she needed permission to continue.

“I guess.. I do? I don’t know? I think after my brother overdosed, we thought he wouldn’t make it? But he did? When I overdosed, it was bad. Like the doctors were shocked I even came out alive? And that made me feel like? We were protected?”

Nate watched the back of Rue’s head as she nodded along before turning his attention to the scrawny blue-haired boy in front of him.

“I don’t.” He nasally spoke, “I don’t think God would watch me and family get evicted three times, or watch my Dad beat my mom into a pulp. Or have us in a homeless shelter. God just wouldn’t do that, you know?”

“Five minutes are up!” Charles said as one side automatically moved onto the next empty chair as one side stayed put. “What was the lowest point in your life?”

A short girl with red glasses sat in front of Rue as she peeled the hanging skin from her cuticles. “When child services took me from my mother, I think. It made me really sad and low when I watched her wave goodbye.”

“Did you end up seeing her later on?”

“Um..” The girl looked down, “no. I never did.”

“Oh,” was all Rue said because she was so strangely sad that she couldn’t muster anything else.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Nate and Rue took on the same tactic for tackling this invasive game. The trick to never revealing anything about yourself was to always ask follow-up questions till the other person was too caught up in their own world to figure out what they were doing. It was better than lying, and it was a hell of alot better than remembering your own personal history. Because the sad truth was that there were two people in this world; the ones who listen and the ones that just needed to be heard. Otherwise, this earth would apathetically crumble.

Nate listened to a sixteen year old boy stifle his prickling teary eyes with nervous laughter as he recounted watching his best friend die in front of him with no way of calling the ambulance without ‘ruining’ everyone’s night.

Charles read out five more questions and all Nate could feel was a thick, slimy sensation at the pit of his stomach. He felt sick listening to these kids pour out their trauma with the timespan of a fucking elevator tune. He wanted to get away from these kids who never did anything to anyone except be born with different brains, dierent wiring, and one bad decision. He wanted to be far away from the people who didn’t make it out here to eat those stale donuts and share their tales, and the ones who didn’t make it and never had a chance to get the help they clearly needed before it was too late. He wanted to get away from the stigma they all clearly feel. To get away from the inherent feeling that they’ve fucked up their lives before it even began. 

Before he knew it, Charles was about to read out the final question and sitting in front of him was an equally crumpled and exhausted Rue. And they didn’t need to say anything at all. They were both thinking the same thing. How completely unfair this entire arrangement was.

“Hey,” she gave a breathy sigh.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Finish the sentence,” Charles said. “I don’t know why..”

They both looked at each other with silent acknowledgment. 

“I’ll say the truth if you do, too.” Rue finally said.

Nate silently nodded before saying, “I don’t know why I did this to myself. I mean, I fucking do. But acknowledging it means that it’s true. That I’m actually an addict. That everyday I fucking crave that feeling. Everyday”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes and no. It was nice. I didn’t have to think much back then.”

“And now?”

“It’s all I do. My brain prides itself on never letting me enjoy a single moment, Rue. Whenever I do quieten it, I’m sure I'll pay the price later. Which was fine. It was fine. It’s fine.”

“What happens when you quieten it?”

Nate gave a short laugh “It would come to collect its debt precisely when I’m unable to pay. It’s evil. It’s cruel. But isn’t that what life is? A constant battle with conceptual neurochemicals? Maybe it wasn’t a battle. You can’t compete with someone who was always going to win. Maybe it’s a slow murder”

Rue nodded before responding, “I don’t know why everyone eventually turns away from me. I don’t know why everything appears much better in my head. Don’t know why everyone seems to turn away from me. I also don’t know why they always seem to forget to take their pictures with them. And I hate it.”

“Would it have been better if they did?”

“I don’t know,” she gave a small laugh, “fuck, maybe?” She gave it more thought. “Maybe it would have been worse if they had taken their pictures with them, leaving behind a clean spot where the grime hadn’t reached it. A spotless shadow for me to continuously gaze at. I’d probably awn at its pristine condition, you know? Then i’d wonder when the fuck my mind was that clean and i’d wish they never left so I wouldn’t have realised this; then I’ll eventually cringe because it’ll soon catch up with the surrounding filth. Either way, there’s no winning with my brain.”

Their words seemed to come out of some primeval cavity — some lonesome half remembered place. A place they didn’t want to burden others with or god forbid, have pity bestowed onto them.

“How many of these have you been to?”

She shuffled uncomfortably, “five. You?”

“First one.”

“Why’d you choose one that’s two towns away? Reputation? Family couldn’t take it?”

Nate felt uncomfortably hot in his seat at being known before nodding and saying, “you? Another relapse? Family couldn’t take it?”

She quietly nodded back as Charles clapped his hands once more.

“And that’s it! Now, I want you all to look at your partner.”

They looked onto eachother.

“I want you to introduce yourselves once more and embrace this new month.”

“My name is Rue Bennett, it’s nice to meet you.”

“My name is Nate Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”

And for the first time in a long while; they both told the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we pretend that this new chapter was totally meant to be in sync with the upcoming February? It would make me look pretty smart instead of being a flaky writer with an inability to commit to tasks. Anyways, how's everyone doing? I won't go into hiding again, promise! As Charles' infuriating ass would say, it's a new year new start! I hope you'll all stick around for these next chapters ;-)


End file.
